Shell Shocked
by Colby'sGirl19
Summary: Sequel to 'Smothered by Love', 'Shell Shocked' is set six weeks after the last story and things finally appear to be returning to normal. That is until a bomb is set off at the LA County Courthouse sending Don and Robin's lives into turmoil once more.
1. Chapter 1

**Shell Shocked**

_**Shell Shock: 1. **__n. __(Psychiatry) loss of sight, memory, etc., resulting from psychological strain during prolonged engagement in warfare.__**2. **__adj. Stunned, distressed, or exhausted from a prolonged trauma or an unexpected difficulty._

**20 Dead **

**60 Injured**

**2 Surgeries **

**6 Seconds**

_*Disclaimer: This Fic contains a slash pairing. Don't like, don't read. Thank you and enjoy. – Colby'sGirl19*_

**Prologue:**

_*"Coincidences are a mathematical reality. Statistically unlikely events can and often do occur. Just look at the genesis of our planet." – Charlie Eppes*_

"_Well, now, I agree that the factors that brought about life on Earth were statistically unlikely, but given the vastness of the cosmos, the limitless possibilities for matter and energy… I'm with Einstein on this. There are no accidents." - __Dr. Larry Fleinhardt._

_Season 1, Episode 13: Man Hunt__ *_

Pulling awkwardly at the trail of skirts behind her, Assistant US Attorney Robin Brooks turned around and gasped with breathless surprise, as she saw her glamorous reflection in the small boutique's full-length mirror for the first time. _This is the one,_ she whispered internally as she watched transfixed by the way the light moved playfully through the lace and chiffon in a way that captured every tear dropped crystal, making every move graceful and elegant at the same time.

Even her skin appeared ethereal and fragile next to the crisp white of the dress that hugged her curves and lifted her breasts admiringly. _This one_, she practically whined to herself as she imagined her slow progression down the aisle made of daises to her fiancé Don Eppes, who would be handsome and happy with that small playful smile of appreciation that she loved so much, tugging at his full sinful lips…her body tingled with the anticipation_._ Two more months and she would be Assistant US Attorney Robin Eppes and she could think of nothing she wanted more.

Reaching up slowly, so as not to shatter the illusion, Robin pulled the clasp from her hair and watched as the tendrils gently slipped and bounced their way across her bare shoulders, teasing her skin and making her shiver with anticipation. Don would argue that she should wear it down because he loved it when it was down, she however loved teasing him with it up as she waited anxiously for that glorious moment when he would pull the clasp from her hair and run his fingers through…

"_Robin_?" Her younger sister Lila called impatiently from the other side of the thin curtain, shattering the fantasy before it could fully form, as she struggled to get into the small changing room without spilling the two tall flutes of Champagne that the small boutique's owner had promised them upon arrival. "Wow," She added with the same misty-eyed wonder that Robin had displayed only seconds before, as she pulled back the curtain with her arm and gaped at Robin's refection in the tall mirror. "You look _beautiful_!"

"You don't think it's too much?" Robin asked nervously as Lila came up from behind and pressed the glass of champagne into her slightly shaking hands.

"Too much?" Lila considered thoughtfully for a second, causing Robin to frown with impatience, "Robin, in that dress…_I'd _marry you!" Lila grinned inanely as she lifted her flute of champagne in salute. "To your big day!"

"My big day," Robin repeated as Lila drank hungrily from her glass, whilst Robin only lifted the glass to her lips and pretended to drink. It wasn't because she didn't want to toast the wedding, though she could see that Lila was taking it that way from her slanted gaze and worried frown, it was just that Robin was a couple weeks late and Robin's periods were never late. Concerned, Robin and used a home pregnancy kit just that morning and the results had been…well startling to say the least. Resting her hand on her flat stomach, Robin wondered how long it would be before it started to show.

"Robin?" Lila asked concerned as she took the glass from Robin's hands and placed it next to her empty one on the small bureau that had been squished needlessly next to the mirror in the small room. "What's going on? Are you getting cold feet?"

"No," Robin sighed as she took one last glimpse at her reflection before reaching behind her and undoing the zip at the back, avoiding all possible eye contact with her sister. Lila was the biggest gossip and Robin hadn't even had chance to figure out how she really felt about being pregnant yet.

It had just always been such a distant concept to her that she had never really given it much thought. Sure she and Don had talked about it…it was just impossible for her to even consider as they were both such workaholics…and they weren't even married yet…and…and…she was making excuses. She knew the main reason she was freaking out was because she had promised Don that when they got pregnant she would retire and apply to become a federal judge just like her father.

She wasn't ready…

"Sis?"

"I…I'm…" Robin babbled, tongue-tied under the weight of her sister's scrutiny. The look was so much like their mothers…that it was just another reason to not have kids yet…she didn't want her and Don ending up like her parents-two workaholics that drifted apart, ended in a messy divorce and now are no longer on speaking terms. Nevertheless the baby was coming and despite her reservations Robin knew she could never have an abortion. It just wasn't even an option.

"What is it?" Her sister pressed as Robin wrestled with the dress in an attempt to avoid the question. She really should tell Don first…

"I'm pregnant." She blurted out suddenly and felt better for putting it out there. All morning she had been antagonising over it and just saying it aloud made it seem the teensiest bit less scary.

"Wow…" Lila replied startled as Robin stared anxiously at her in her underwear. "Wow…" Lila repeated before pulling her big sister in for a bear hug. "Oh my God Robin…that's…that's huge!"

"I know…" Robin laughed as her sister bounced excitedly around her, pulling Robin around with her.

"I'm going to be an aunt! I've got to tell Luke!"

"No Lila," Robin replied hurriedly as she stopped her sister mid bounce. "I haven't even told Don yet. No one else can know. Not even your boyfriend!"

"When are you going to tell him?" Lila asked a little deflated as Robin began to pull her suit trousers back on.

"Tonight at dinner…"

"Are you bricking it?" Lila asked pleasantly in her own unique way that often made Robin frown with disapproval. Lila may have been starting her freshman year at Harvard, but she still had a lot of growing up to do.

"A little," Robin admitted reluctantly as she tucked her shirt in at the waistband of her pinstriped trousers before stooping down and pulling on her suede black pumps.

"I guess my plans for your bridal shower will have to be drastically changed…" Lila replied as she chewed thoughtfully on the knuckle of her index finger-a habit that Robin hadn't been able to rid her younger sibling of over the years.

"I don't even want to know what you originally had planned…do I?" Robin asked playfully as she picked up the wedding dress and attempted to smooth out the ripples of chiffon and silk.

"Probably not," Lila laughed unashamedly as she held back the changing room's thin curtain for Robin to get through without damaging the dress.

"Can I have this dress delivered to this address?" Robin asked the boutique's owner as she handed the flowery old lady her business card which had the address to her and Don's new house on the back. She'd had them reprinted several months back after Don had proposed and they had moved into an old craftsman home just down the street from Don's brother and father.

"Delivered? Can't we just take it back with us now?" Lila asked confused as the old lady took the dress, covered it and hung it up on a rail behind her with the receipt of purchase pinned to the front.

"I've got to stop by the courthouse quickly," Robin replied absently as she pulled out her phone and started checking her messages.

"Back to work? I thought you took the day!" Lila pouted unattractively as she followed Robin outside and crossed her arms in defiance as Robin attempted to flag down a taxi.

"I just have to pick up a couple of files from Michael and then I'm yours for the rest of the day," Robin smiled affectionately as she waited for Lila to climb in before getting into the now waiting taxi.

Michael Burnett, Robin's assistant, was supposed to have put the files on Robin's desk for her the night before but what with the death of his daughter six weeks ago, such tiny details seemed to slip his mind lately and Robin couldn't blame him. It was the first huge case of Michael's to go to trial since Connie's death without Robin being there to hold his hand every step of the way and things were bound to fall through the cracks. Besides it really wasn't _that_ far out of her way to swing by the courthouse first…

"It won't take long," Robin told the still pouting Lila as the taxi pulled away from the curb and headed in the direction of downtown LA. "I'll even have the taxi wait for me, that's how quick I'll be." Robin smiled as she looped her arm around her sister's neck and pulled her in for a quick hug.

"Famous last words," Lila giggled in reply as the taxi turned the corner and joined the long line of heavy traffic that was all headed towards downtown LA.

***Break***

_This was wrong and he knew it. There was no denying how wrong it was and yet…and yet he had no choice. His son's life _depended_ on it…depended on him. He had _no_ choice. Please God, forgive him because he really needed forgiveness for what he was about to do. _

_He'd hoped, no he'd prayed that the people in the courthouse would be nothing but meaningless faces to him but it was the reverse. It was almost as if he was overly aware of every last detail, from the kindly and robust security woman who was so full of life, full of joy to the woman she was chatting to with beautiful long hair that flowed over her shoulders and bounced as she unconsciously placed her hand over her stomach, guarding her precious load. He wondered if she knew she was doing it and wondered how far along she was…his wife had done the same when she had been pregnant with their son…she hadn't even know she was doing it…_

_Run. RUN! He wanted to shout but no words came out. He opened his mouth but it was almost as if the words had dried up. His son needed him to keep his mouth shut. His son needed him to protect him. _

_Please God, let him know I did this to protect him! _

_How long had it been since he'd entered the large courthouse? How long did he have until the call would come that would ignite the waistcoat of C4 that they had strapped to him? How long did he have left before he would die? _

_Seconds…apparently, as the phone rang and he knew, he knew that at the push of the button he would destroy _everything_ from the happy memories of marrying his wife and adopting her son here to the lives of those around him…_

_Please brother forgive me, I did it for our son. _

**Chapter 1:**

_*"Change is inevitable, and those who adapt most quickly are the most likely to survive." - __Dr. Larry Fleinhardt__._

_Season 3, episode 17: One Hour*_

Pulling up the collar of his cheap cotton suit jacket defensively, detective Elliott Hayes pushed his clenched fists deep into his pants pockets, as he stood back aghast from the turmoil, confusion and devastation of the LA county courthouse before him, and watched with horrified fascination as people, so many people, clambered and clawed their way out of the total and absolute destruction around them.

There was a thick black cloud of ash and smoke above them that was doing its best to mute the cries and wails of the injured and scared but still their screams carried across the almost unrecognizable parking lot to where he waited stubbornly on the fringe of all the of the unbridled chaos and mayhem.

There were still firemen everywhere, pulling new victims away from the wreckage, as paramedics rushed around them prioritizing wounds and administering aid where necessary before whisking people away to the safety and security of the nearest hospital.

Elliott would just have to wait for the firemen to clear the building before he could start his investigation into what the fuck had just happened. That seemed to be the thing that was confusing most people…_what the fuck _had_ just happened?_

One woman was shrieking about the earth shifting beneath her as another recounted her perilous journey through a wall of flame. Both women appeared to be upon the less affected of the courthouse victims but that didn't mean the press were any less interested in what they had to say. A streak of soot here, a torn skirt there and the two women would probably appear on the front cover of every LA newspaper by noon tomorrow.

_Cough and fake smoke inhalation and they would most likely make the national news, _Elliott thought bitterly as he watched the two women fight for the journalist's attention but who really knew what to believe right now. Elliott's father had always claimed that the thing to remember when starting any investigation was that 'Witnesses are unreliable at the best of times…and untrustworthy the rest of the time'. It was a lesson that Elliott had learnt for himself early on in his rookie year.

He just hated that ninety percent of the time a case would hinge on a witness's testimony as if his solid police work didn't count. Then again, as he had seen so often before, it was easy to sway a jury with someone else's story but a heck of a lot harder to get a jury to be swept away by a piece of evidence…

Sighing irritably Elliott turned away from the two women and made his way around the building crowd towards the police tape that for the most part was managing to hold back the anxious spectators that were probably on their lunch break and looking for something entertaining to do.

He was definitely getting too old for this job; Elliott grimaced as Detective Chris Morrison, Elliott's third new partner since the death of his old partner detective Brian Hamilton six weeks earlier, and Elliott's least favorite replacement to date, waved him over and ordered a rookie to lift the tape for him.

"Detective Hayes! Over here!" Chris shouted just in case Elliott had missed him...what? So every now and again Elliott had a bit of a tendency to ignore the new guys…so what?

"What have you got for me Morrison?" Elliott replied gruffly as the young man smiled affectionately at him in greeting. Frowning, Elliott looked past his almost cheerful partner to the line of corpses at their feet. Each had been covered with a generic white sheet and Elliott couldn't help but wonder where those sheets came from because when something like this happened there always seemed to be a lot of them to hand.

"So far the body count is at twenty whilst the injured is at fifty-nine. Wounds vary but I have a rookie taking names and phone numbers so that we can interview them later."

_You're_ still a rookie! Elliott wanted to scream back as he bent down and looked under the sheet of the closest victim. Every year the department offered a rookie the chance to become a detective in training...unfortunately it fell to Elliott to 'train' this one. The Captain had said it was because he was 'between partners' right now but Elliott knew that was just a party line for 'no one will work with you', which meant Elliott was stuck with the shiny, excitable and overly eager newbie whilst the rest of the department laid bets on how long it would be before Elliott made the rookie cry. Even his wife Karen seemed unusually unsympathetic to his suffering. "We all have to start somewhere," She would sigh dramatically with impatience if her husband started to complain for too long.

"Do we have ID's on any of _these_ victims?" Elliott frowned as he placed the sheet back over the remains of a large African American woman who was wearing the charred remains of a security uniform. Her name badge said 'Flo'.

"Some but not others," Chris grimaced as Elliott lifted the sheet off of the victim next to the security officer and saw that this one's face was practically burnt off. He could tell that it was female but there was practically nothing left of her that was even remotely distinguishable amongst the charred remnants of the woman's body. She was wearing an expensive ring on her ring finger but that alone would not be enough for an ID. Elliott had a feeling that the coroner would be pulling a lot of dental records to clean this mess up.

"Then go get me the rest," Elliott barked tiredly as he placed the sheet back carefully before standing up and looking around him once more. It was as if the crowd had doubled in size since his arrival and the police were struggling to keep people back, so much so that even a few of the firefighters had abandoned the wreckage to help out.

"My sister! _Please_! She's still inside!" Elliott heard one young voice scream out above the others as the crowd pushed forward once more as if they were trying to press their noses to the window of this crime scene. "_Please!_" He heard the voice call out again as he scanned the crowd for its owner.

"El," Chis whispered annoyingly in Elliott's ear as he tapped Elliott's shoulder and pointed to what had caught the crowd's interest. Long after the other firemen had given up on finding survivors, one had kept up the search.

Emerging now from the large gaping hole in the side of the west wall, the crowd, Elliott and his partner watched with bated breath as the fireman called out for help.

This one was alive.

"Make that sixty injured," Chris muttered as Elliott gaped with surprise as the firefighter carried the woman valiantly in his strong arms, his smoldering coat draped across her body for protection as the other firefighters and cops cleared a path for the paramedics to rush through with a stretcher. Following them in their wake, Elliott was at the victim's side in minutes and watched transfixed as the firefighter lifted his coat to reveal extensive burns to the side of the woman's jaw, neck and left shoulder.

"_Robin!"_ He hissed confused but it was obvious that she was beyond answering.

"She's going into shock," One of the paramedics called out as the firefighter and Chris pulled Elliott stumbling backwards.

"No!" Elliott shouted at them like they were insane when it was he that sounded deranged and far removed from the usually cool and decisive Elliott Hayes that he was known to be. "I know her!"

"She needs to get to the hospital ASAP," The paramedic shouted at Elliott as he and his partner grabbed the other side of the stretcher and stormed off at a run to their waiting ambulance.

"You _know_ her?" Chris asked confused as a shaking Elliott dug deep in his pockets for his mobile phone.

"I have to make a call…" Elliott stammered as he remembered the way her skin had curled and simmered before his eyes. "I need to…" He babbled confused as Chris tore the phone from his hands and flicked the top up to get to the keyboard and contact list.

"Tell me who and _I'll_ make the call," Chris told Elliott sternly as Elliott's face went white with fear and his grey ghost like eyes flashed somewhere between anger and horror.

"Don…phone Don," Elliott whispered before turning and retching where he stood.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

_*"I know math is full of absolutes; unfortunately, the rest of the world isn't." – Charlie Eppes. _

_Season 4, Episode 1: Trust Metric*_

Sighing tiredly, Charlie pulled the thick duvet over his head in rebellion as he twisted round to reach the still buzzing alarm clock, before setting it back to snooze for the second time that morning. Five more minutes, that was all he was asking for. Just five more minutes before having to get up and face the new day, was that really too much ask for? He just _needed_ five more minutes…

Groaning loudly, Charlie rolled back onto his front as he stretched his hands out before him, tucking them under the pillow his head was resting on. It was funny, six weeks later and he was starting to get used to sleeping with a gun under his pillow…which was odd for a guy who had never believed in them before. Smiling crookedly he remembered Ian's disbelief when Charlie had told him as much back when they had first met. "_Believe in them_? It's not like they're ghosts," Ian had laughed arrogantly at Charlie's naiveté and ignorance. He had taught Charlie a lot about factoring the human element into his equations on that case, though at the time Charlie had been loathed to admit it. Sometimes it surprised Charlie how even back then there had been a glimmer of a spark between them, he only wished that he had acted on it sooner rather than waste the last six years.

"What are you thinking about?" Ian smiled affectionately from where he was leaning against the door frame with his sniper rifle and cleaning kit in his large hands.

"The human element…" Charlie smiled back shyly, suddenly aware that he was semi naked beneath the sheets as Ian propped the rifle up against the wall before drifting into the small bedroom.

"Eh?" Ian laughed in response as he sat down next to Charlie on the bed, pinning the duvet beneath him.

"Nothing," Charlie yawned, still tired from his restless night, which he might as well just call night as they all seemed to be restless of late. How was he expected to sleep though when his partner was always shutting him out? They never talked…about any of it. It had gotten to the point where Charlie wasn't even sure if Brian had really died that night or if he'd dreamed the whole thing…

"Ah," Ian smiled knowingly as the lines around his small sharp eyes crinkled with supressed laughter.

"Wait…where have _you_ been?" Charlie asked suddenly confused as he took in Ian's loose fitting shirt and jeans for the first time. Ian wasn't eating enough and Charlie was at a loss for how to help him. He wasn't sleeping either, not that you could tell. Ian could be a machine when he needed to be.

"I had an early session with Dr Telford," Ian frowned as he turned his face away from Charlie's to look out the open window and pulled his long legs up defensively to rest under his chin-a defence mechanism from his time in foster care that he hadn't entirely out grown.

"Did he say anything about signing you off?" Charlie asked carefully as he lifted himself up into a sitting position, letting the covers pool in his lap as the cold air attacked his naked torso. Ian had been seeing the FBI appointed therapist for five weeks now-ever since they had moved to Quantico Virginia to teach a few lessons while Ian was out of action. He would have gone out of his mind with boredom otherwise and Charlie had thought it best follow Agent Chase's example and get out of LA for a while.

"Charlie…I've been signed off for the last week…" Ian grimaced guiltily as he hugged his legs closer until they were pressed flat against his solid chest. Biting his lip, Ian turned his face back to Charlie's to face the mixture of concern, worry and fear that he knew would be there and was devastated instead to find betrayal and grief in the way that Charlie clenched his jaw angrily and crossed his arms across his small chest.

"A week?" Charlie threw the duvet away as he twisted to place his feet against the cold wooden floorboards-his back to Ian. "I don't understand…"

"I just needed a little more time before going back to LA," Ian replied weakly but his response sounded pitiful even to his own ears. He had lied and seeing the hurt in Charlie's eyes he really wished he hadn't. Sometimes fear could even get the best of someone like Ian, though he was also loathed to admit as much.

Getting up, Ian moved around the soft bed to kneel before Charlie. "I'm sorry_ Charlie_," Ian replied softly, his voice cracking on Charlie's name as he placed his hands on Charlie's bare thighs and slid them up towards the hem of his boxers. "I should have told you. It's just…these past few weeks alone with you have been as close to perfect as I could have hoped for…is it so wrong that I wasn't ready for it to end?"

"Yes… no…it's just…_you should have told me_," Charlie sighed sadly as he placed his hand on Ian's left cheek and stroked the long scar that the LA Child snatcher had left there six weeks ago. Charlie wondered if it still hurt…it certainly looked like it did. "_You _know_ we can stay as long as you need_," Charlie added as he leaned in and kissed Ian roughly.

"Thank you for understanding," Ian whispered hoarsely, relief flooding his tense body as his hands snaked their way up into Charlie's soft brown curls before drawing Charlie's lips to his once more.

"Don't think that's the end of it though. We need to talk about it Ian. I'm worried about you…" Charlie replied sternly, an edge to his voice he hadn't intended that made Ian flinch with guilt.

"I know," Ian sighed forlornly, his face resigned. He had hoped that he could protect Charlie from his nightmares…but he could see now that he'd been a fool to think he could. "Dr Telford's been telling me as much since he signed me off." He whispered, his hot breath teasing Charlie's ear.

"I've always said he was a smart man," Charlie grinned, finding it impossible to stay mad at Ian when he nibbled at his ear like that. "Are you doing anything later?"

"I have to meet an ATF agent and help him test some recruits," Ian moaned with pleasure as reaching down, Charlie pulled the shirt from Ian's trousers before making his way underneath.

"ATF?" Charlie sucked in confused, his back arching from pleasure as Ian's hot mouth trailed lazily from Charlie's jaw to his flat chest as Ian gently pushed Charlie back against the soft duvet until he was on top and kissing him once more.

"Some attempt at repairing interagency relationships," Ian smiled mischievously, his mouth breaking apart from Charlie's as Charlie's fingers raked at Ian's back hungrily beneath his shirt.

"What about you? How long do we have?" Ian moaned against Charlie's mouth, his eyes serious as Charlie's fingers moved between them to make quick work of Ian's shirt buttons.

"Five minutes," Charlie laughed as he flipped Ian over so that he was straddling him before hitting the now buzzing alarm clock once more.

***Break***

Sitting awkwardly in the Burn Unit's small waiting room, Don Eppes rubbed tiredly at the growing pain behind his temples as Robin's younger sister Lila paced furiously back and forth like a caged animal as a young officer, probably new to the force, stood watch outside on Elliott's orders. It felt like it had been hours since any of them had last seen a doctor or a nurse and the endless waiting was causing Don's stomach to twist into a tight knot of despair.

_Where was Robin? He needed to see her. He needed to be with her…_

"It's been too long!" Lila shouted, or at least that was how it sounded to Don's fragile head. He had a migraine and the harsh light of the waiting room wasn't helping. Neither was the tranquil beach/country theme of happy families and animals that was painted on the wall opposite.

_Please God…don't let her be dead! _Don prayed silently as Lila resumed her pacing because…_damn it, Lila was right. It _had_ been too long!_

Crossing his arms, legs, fingers…everything, Don continued to ignore the clipboard in the chair next to him. A nurse had asked for Robin's name, address, history and insurance some time ago…but no one had come to collect it since.

_Just don't let her be dead,_ he pleaded again. _They could deal with and overcome anything…just don't let her be dead…_

"_Don?_" Don's dad, Alan Eppes asked worriedly as he came storming into the small waiting room trailed by the flustered looking rookie, stopping Lila mid stride. "I got your message," He added lamely, deflating a little as he took in his son's stricken expression. "Is she…?" He couldn't even finish the sentence.

_Please God don't let her be dead…_Don pleaded again as he squeezed his eyes shut tiredly.

"We don't know," Lila replied hysterically as she dropped down into the plastic, and equally uncomfortable looking, chair next to Don's, knocking into him in the process. "Nobody will tell us anything!"

"What _nothing_?" Alan repeated shocked as he looked at his unreactive son to the over reactive Lila and back again. "_Donnie?"_

"They took her into the admission room over two hours ago," The rookie spoke up for the first time since Don had arrived.

_He was young_, that was all Don had noticed before but now, opening his eyes and giving the man a proper look over Don realised that he'd been wrong. _The rookie was really young…practically green._ _He probably thought standing guard by a waiting room was boring or beneath him_. Don wouldn't have blamed the rookie either; he would have felt the same in the boy's shoes…

"You saw her then?" Alan asked hungrily for any kind of update.

"Well…err…" the boy stammered under Alan's intense gaze.

"What aren't you telling us?" Alan demanded frustrated, causing the young officer to step back a pace.

"What he isn't saying is that it's bad…" Lila's voice wobbled as she also seemed to shrink before Alan, lifting her legs up to her chest as she scrunched herself into a small ball, resting her head on Don's strong shoulder for support. "I saw her as they pulled her from the wreckage…her shoulder…her neck…" Lila added before breaking down into hysterical sobs next to him.

Without saying a word, Don wrapped his arm around Lila and held her small shuddering frame against his strong chest until she had no tears left to give. Curling her fingers into his wrinkled shirt, Lila held onto Don as he gently cradled her in his arms. There was so much of Robin in Lila that it made Don's heart ache to look at her.

_It's bad…pulled from the wreckage…neck and shoulder…two hours…Rob…God damn it he needed to be with her. Where was everyone? Why wasn't anyone telling him anything?_

"There, there," Alan whispered comfortingly as he handed Lila his handkerchief and squeezed her shoulder in support. "I'll go and get some coffee and while I'm gone I'll see what I can find out."

_His Dad always knew the right thing to say,_ Don couldn't help but notice as both Lila and the rookie seemed to almost calm in his presence... _When Don's mother had died he'd known the right thing to say…unlike Charlie…Charlie had crumbled. Would that be him? Would he crumble?_

_Just don't let her be dead…_he willed silently as his dad and the rookie slipped back out of the room mumbling as they went, leaving Don and Lila alone in the suffocating waiting room. _He needed to get out of here, he needed to find Robin_._ Rob…come back to me…_he whispered sadly to himself as Lila continued to cling to him for support. _I need you…_

***Break***

Scrubbing tiredly at his strong jaw with his large calloused fist, Special Agent Marcus Denam watched with disproval as the pitiful group of recruits he was supposed to be 'teaching' turned up fifteen minutes late and without apology. Shaking his head crossly, Marc took a prolonged drag of his dying cigarette before flicking it away. He didn't know how the FBI usually ran things but Marcus knew that if these recruits had tuned up fifteen minutes late to an ATF training session they'd already be on the next bus home because training at Glynco, Georgia is fiercely competitive. Of all the applicants that start the course, less than five per cent actually get hired. Tardiness wasn't accepted and as such these recruits wouldn't have even lasted a day. They were soft, they were undisciplined…they were already trying his bloody patience! And annoyingly they had been dumped on him for a whole week!

Picking up his camouflaged cane, a gift from his old team, from the hood of his rental jeep, Marcus picked his way across the gravelly parking lot until he was behind the small group of twenty recruits. Considering how laboured his movement was, Marc was surprised that none of the recruits had seen, or heard, him coming. He wasn't small either, at six foot six, Marc was at least two foot taller than the tallest recruit and the most physically defined of all of them. He had a large barrel chest, broad shoulders, slim hips and thick thighs. His hair was dusty brown with grey at the temples and was cropped close to his head-he was an ex-marine and had grown to prefer it short.

He was also dressed conservatively in a navy blue long sleeved t-shirt with golden 'ATF' letters scrawled on the back, ripped jeans that covered all but the tips of his black biker boots and his badge and gun on either hip with a sniper rifle strapped across his large chest so that it was pressed flat across the width of his back. He had just come from the airport and despite it being only a short flight from Washington DC, he still felt pretty tired, his leg was cramping up in pain and his patience had well and truly worn thin.

"Listen up!" Marc growled loudly as the recruits snapped their heads with shock, yes he really had snuck up on them and yes unfortunately he had been standing there long enough to hear their gross exaggerations of skill based on the correlation to the size of their junk and no, he didn't want to be there either. Unfortunately he hadn't been given a choice.

It had been a year since he had saved the British Consulate from blowing up and a year since the bomb he'd managed to contain to the basement had taken a piece of him in return in the form of second and third degree burns up his right hand and arm and a career ending piece of shrapnel to the leg. He was just lucky that he'd managed to avoid amputation even if it did mean that his leg was in constant pain, anything had be preferable to the alternative! Besides he was tough…he needed to be to survive a year of riding a desk whilst he recuperated!

Before the explosion that had ended his career, Marcus had been a leading weapons and explosions expert. Now he had been reduced to glorified babysitter because some bureaucrat decided he could be utilised as a good will gesture towards inter departmental cooperation after some jurisdictional fuck up on the east coast. Only it wasn't them that actually had to turn twenty hopeless idiots into decent agents, _he did_!

"You ladies think you you've had it hard until now?" Marc asked the recruits rhetorically, taking a year's worth of frustration out on them as they made a narrow alley of bodies for him to walk down to get to the front of the shooting range. "Well I'm here to say that you haven't. You think you've put up good numbers in the shooting range? I'm here to say your attempts were pathetic!" Marc shouted dispassionately as the recruits all mumbled irritably under their breaths.

"Speak up when addressing your training officer!" A voice shouted sternly from behind, making the recruits jump once more as they all shuffled uncomfortably on the spot-pinned between their gruff training officer and another tall angry stranger, "Or shut the fuck up!"

"Ah," Marc smiled grimly as the group parted once more to let the stranger through. He was wearing a battered old leather jacket over a light blue shirt and jeans that were loose on his slender frame. Physically the stranger was striking. He had mysterious almond shaped eyes that squinted and glowered with supressed anger and short black hair that had been slicked back with obvious care. He also had an angry red scar that split his left eyebrow and snaked its way down his left cheek and jaw. The scar was fresh, maybe a few weeks old, and painful looking from where Marc was standing. There was also a certain grace about the way the other man walked. Careful…whilst seemingly carefree as a scoped rifle hung jauntily from his right shoulder as if it was just another limb to him. There was also a cat like agility to the way the man moved, his toned muscles rippling from the effort as he made no sound as he walked despite wearing heavy hunting boots. He reminded Marc of himself before his accident and couldn't help but feel slightly envious in the man's presence. "Special Agent Ian Edgerton I presume? I'm glad you changed your mind and decided to join us today."

"Well I was in the neighbourhood," Ian shrugged casually as he shook hands with the tired looking instructor before him.

"Let me introduce you to today's guest," Marc smiled cruelly at the now silent recruits. "Agent Ian Edgerton here is Ex Special Forces and Ex CIA. Until recently he has hunted and captured some of the biggest named fugitives in FBI history. His latest being the child murdering bitch that the press nick named the LA Child Snatcher. More importantly to today's lesson he is the number two shot in America. No ladies, he doesn't wear the rifle for show."

"Trust me…you don't want to know how I moved up a spot," Ian laughed, but there was no humour behind it. "Agent Denam here is wearing an M40A5, this is a Remington, model 700 PSS-a." Swinging the rifle around with one fluid motion, Ian held out the scoped rifle for all to see. "A personal favourite," He winked at one ginger headed recruit that was looking on with a kind of awe in his bright blue eyes that unsettled Ian underneath the over played cockiness. "You will get to pick which you use today. Choose wisely."

"The test," Marc barked, "Is to hit the target. You have one round, meaning one shot. To complete this challenge you'll need patience, you'll need skill and looking at you…a whole lot 'a luck."

"Who's first?" Ian smiled crookedly as he rested the rifle over his shoulder and the back of his neck. After a second of non-response, the fully chastised recruits threw their hands eagerly into the air.

"You," Marc pointed at the one recruit to not put his hand in the air. "You're up first," He smiled cruelly as the recruit followed them to the door of the shooting range. "Test starts the second you enter the room." Marc warned as the recruit took the rifle and round from Ian before nodding dumbly at Marc.

"Yes sir," Ian whispered helpfully in the frightened recruit's ear.

"Yes sir," The recruit squeaked as Ian and Marc took their seats to one side of the range as the lad laid down on the mat, loaded the rifle and missed the target.

Sighing audibly, Marc put a cross next to the first recruit's name. "NEXT!" He shouted loudly as the lad handed the rifle back to Ian, head bowed in shame.

"This is going to be a long day," Ian whispered out of the side of his mouth as the next recruit laid down, loaded the rifle and missed the target.

"NEXT!" Both Ian and Marc shouted together in irritated chorus.

***Break***

It had taken a few hours but eventually one by one crowd had slowly begun to dissipate as they all remembered that they either had work, family, or lives to get back to. The excitement and the drama had worn off by the time the sun had begun its tired decent in the masked sky and the cold had crept in. Even over half the film crews had moved on after the fire-fighters had packed up and gone home declaring the courthouse as 'structurally sound'.

Not long after the bomb squad had arrived to sweep the scene for any hidden or remaining explosives because safety at the scene was always the primary focus. Meanwhile the courthouse had been surveyed from the sky and the ground before finally it was declared safe.

Now it was the turn of the crime scene investigators and despite the fact that it was a long process, and Elliott was freezing his balls off, he'd stayed to oversee it all; surprisingly, so had his young partner and new shadow.

"Geez, fire-fighters really know how to trash a crime scene," CSI Samantha Wilkes growled irritably as she and her supervisor CSI Gary Knolls approached the crime scene for the first time.

"Their job is to think victim first Sam, they saved countless lives today," Gary scolded gently. He was used to her rants by now, they were like storms; you just had to ride them out.

"How big do you think it was?" She whispered in awe at the mess at their feet. Walls had caved in exposing pipes and wires and inhalation. Fixtures had been ripped from the ground and tossed around like a child having a tantrum and black, so much black that it coated everything making the rubble seem endless.

"It's not the size of the bomb, it's the over pressure and air around it," Gary sighed as he placed his metal kit on the ground and pulled a pair of latex gloves from his overall pockets. "The murder weapon is in here somewhere, we just need to find it."

"Yeah it's here," Samantha grumbled as she too dropped her kit and put on a pair of gloves. "In about a thousand pieces!"

"Exactly, everything goes back to the lab, we'll reconstruct it there." Gary explained as a couple more CSI's turned up to help take part in the scavenger hunt. "Bombs explode," He told them all as they scattered out and began picking through the debris. "But their components survive. The sooner we know the bomb the closer we are to finding who did this."

_Who did this?_ It seemed like such a loaded question. _Who would want to do this?_ Seemed more appropriate to Elliott. _Motive…who had the most to gain._

"Detective Hayes? ..._El_?" Chris asked worriedly, breaking into Elliott's scattered thoughts as he joined El, who was standing to one side out of the way of the CSI's who carried on as if he wasn't there.

"Yes?" Elliott replied without turning to look at his partner because moving, thinking, even breathing caused his stomach to churn and the vomit to rise once more. Strangely he was growing accustomed to the acidic burn on the back of his throat but that didn't make the memories of the day any less haunting. _How was she? Was Robin even alive? _Elliott hated to think what he would have done if it had been his wife instead...what Don had to be going through…what they still had to go through if she survived…

"There is nothing more we can do here tonight," Chris told him kindly, his eyes swimming with concern even though Elliott had been a prick to him on more than one occasion, hell more than once that day!

"Don't," Elliott shook his head sadly, his gut twisting with guilt. "Don't be nice to me…"

"It's been a long day," Chris continued as if Elliott hadn't spoken, "Why don't you go to the hospital. Check on your friends."

"_I never said they were my friends_," Elliott snapped angrily as he turned his ghostly gaze upon Chris's, making the young detective in training gulp with apprehension, nevertheless he held his ground. Brian would have liked Chris. Worse, he would have definitely found El being lumbered with him hilarious, which somehow made Elliott hate the young detective that bit more; he represented everything that El had lost.

_Damn it! Brian was his partner…not this kid and as far as Elliott was concerned he never would be. He couldn't forgive Don or his team for what had happened either and he didn't know if he ever could_. _He just didn't have it in him right now. He was still too angry for that._ "Just drop it kid, ok._"_

"O…k then," Chris replied eventually as he finally looked away from Elliott's haunting gaze, "Go home El. There's nothing more for us to do here tonight and the Captain wants us fresh for the briefing tomorrow. The CSI's will have finished their preliminary report by then and we'll have a better understanding of what happened here…_tomorrow_."

"I don't need you telling me my job," Elliott replied grouchily as he pushed his fists into his pockets and walked away, not because the kid was right but before he had the chance to say something he couldn't take back in the morning.

"I never said you did," Chris shook his head sadly as the detective he'd admired most when he had joined the force a year ago, and who had taken an instant and irrational disliking to him the second they had been partnered together, walked away, his hunched frame melting into the surrounding darkness.

***Break***

Lying prone on the ground, Oliver Burnett pressed his eye to the large scope as he pointed the rifle at the human shaped target at the end of the range and tried his hardest to regain control of his cramping body. One round, one shot…one chance. That was all, just one shot standing between him passing his weapons handling test and graduating as an agent of the FBI. _No pressure then, _he told himself sardonically as he took several deep breaths to slow his rapidly beating heart as he raked his fingers through his long fringe to brush the ginger tendrils from his eyes.

How long had he been laying there for? Ollie couldn't tell anymore. Surely not long or either agent would have failed him by now_…although…agent Denam had told him he would need patience and skill to pass the test…was that why the others had all failed? They had all taken their shot too quickly? Or because skilled marksmen they were not? _All he knew was that he was the last one to take the test and failure wasn't even an option. He _needed _this and if that meant he had to lie there all night to make the shot he would, although he had a feeling both agents would draw the line at all night…_damn it he was getting distracted_. _Focus Ollie…focus._

_Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, hold…shoot…at what?_ Taking his eye away from the scope, Ollie looked down the range at the only partially visible target. It was a shot that the number two shot in America could probably make in his sleep…but for anyone else, especially Ollie? The target might as well be in England because he would never make the shot from this angle…

_Could he move?_ Looking around him Ollie took in the rest of the shooting range for the first time that afternoon. He was lying on the only mat to have been set up but did that mean he had to take the shot from there? The rifle hadn't been placed there…he had been the one to make the unconscious decision to lie there…

Getting up, Oliver tried his hardest to ignore the curious way agent Edgerton regarded him with mild amusement whilst agent Denam took another long drag of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground next to the others and stubbed it out with his toe, oblivious to the fact that Ollie had even moved. _Focus,_ Ollie told himself sternly as he removed the scope from the rifle and used it to find the best vantage point from which to hit the target.

_There,_ he smiled grimly as he lay down flat and reset the scope, the target was easily visible now. Body tense, Oliver levelled his breathing once more before flicking the safety catch off and curling his right index finger around the rifle's trigger until he could feel the tension in the spring. _Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, hold…one…two…release!_ Pulling the trigger the rest of the way, Ollie watched with pleasure as his round sailed through the air, making the wood splinter as it hit the target.

"Well done," Agent Edgerton told Ollie when he finally dared to move. "It's a common misconception that because you hold a scoped rifle you'll automatically make the shot when there is a whole lot more to consider, such as finding the right vantage point. Did you even realise that when you moved you concealed yourself from the other end of the range? Invisibility first, remember that because it's a sniper's greatest strength."

"But it's the ability to make the shot that will get him paid," Agent Denam teased as he also came over and shook Ollie's hand in congratulations.

"True," Edgerton laughed as agent Denam smiled genuinely for the first time that day. It was a shooting range miracle but then Edgerton's presence did have a sort of calming effect…you know, when you aren't a petrified recruit one shout away from passing…then his presence was just nerve wracking as hell! "That's the end of your training right?" Agent Edgerton asked as he turned back to regard Ollie curiously once more.

"Yes sir," Ollie nodded as the inspiring, albeit slightly frightening, agent took out his wallet and pulled a business card from the back and handed it to Ollie.

"Give me a call after you've graduated," He added before moving away to answer his ringing cell phone. "Edgerton…ah Charlie…sorry I'm late, I was just about to leave…" Smiling into the receiver, agent Edgerton moved too far away for Ollie to catch anymore but whoever this 'Charlie' was he didn't seem to have good news because within minutes Ian seemed to shrink a couple of inches as if some invisible weight had just landed back on his square shoulders.

"Here," Ollie turned around and handed agent Denam the rifle as he pocketed the business card for later, when he turned back agent Edgerton was gone.

***Break***

"This was your floor right?" The young nurse asked kindly as Assistant Director Nick Callaghan watched the elevator doors slide open but forgot to move. "Sir?" She asked confused when he didn't respond immediately.

"Right…yeah I guess it is…" Nick nodded slowly because everything seemed to be in slow motion at the moment, even him. "Yes…thank you," He smiled absently as she held the lift door back, preventing it from closing until he'd gotten off into yet another generic corridor. The walls were white washed and devoid of any pictures or random paintings of expressive art, with a mud brown skirting board that matched the double doors at the end of the hall.

Making his way towards them, Nick's expensive loafers squeaked impossibly against the bland linoleum flooring, making him cringe with guilt. He hated hospitals and he felt like every passing person was judging him, like they could see how badly he wished he could be anywhere else. But then again who didn't wish to be anywhere else? Hospitals were strange places with unnatural sounds, colours and smells. Everyday people would come in that would never walk out again…if you were in hospital then there was something either wrong with you or someone you loved…who would ever look at a hospital and go 'now that looks a great day out…'

"Nicky?" Alan Eppes asked in surprise as Nick rounded a corner and bumped right into Don's father, literally.

"Shit," Nick swore loudly as the polystyrene coffee cup that Alan had been holding caved against Nick's solid chest, burning him as it dribbled and dripped down onto his tan suit trousers. "I guess I'm in the right place then," Nick smiled grimly as Alan dug into his pockets for a handkerchief that wasn't there.

"I'm really sorry!" Alan shook his head frustrated. "I wasn't looking…"

"Neither was I," Nick shrugged as Alan threw the empty cup into the trash can by the nurses' station.

Taking a deep breath, Nick regarded Alan's pinched expression._ Shit…was he too late?_ "How is she?" He just about squeezed past his clenched jaw as he ground his teeth in preparation. 'Expect the worst' that was what Nick's grandfather had always told him. 'That way you'll never be disappointed'. He'd died in a hospital not too dissimilar to this one…but then again Nick supposed that once you'd seen one hospital you'd pretty much seen them all…

"She's stable," Alan replied hesitantly as Nick folded with relief.

"Thank God!"

"But she's not out of the woods yet…"Alan added as he dug his hands into his coat pockets, not entirely sure what to do with them. "They wouldn't tell me anymore as I'm technically not related yet…"

"Really?" Nick shook his head with disgust. "Nothing else?"

"Just that a doctor would be by shortly," Alan nodded solemnly.

He looked lost and Nick wished he knew what to say to make things better but he'd never really had much success in the past and the last thing Nick wanted to do was hurt Alan more than he already was… "What about Don? How's he holding up?"

"He isn't…I don't know," Alan sighed tiredly. "It's like he isn't really there…"

"How so?" Nick asked confused. He'd known Don since they had trained at the academy together. Hell, Don had been the best man at Nick's wedding and Nick couldn't think of a time when Don hadn't been the one to keep a straight head whilst the others went crazy around him.

"He didn't say a word…it's like he's shut down…I've never seen him like it," Alan replied after some time as if he was afraid to say it aloud. "Not even after his mother died…"

"I'm sure he's just processing," Nick replied lamely in an attempt to placate him but knew it sounded weak; they were just empty words…perhaps there were no right words for a situation like this. If there were those definitely weren't them…

"We should get back," Alan pointed down the hall to where a uniformed officer was chatting to a man in a white coat. "Looks like the doctor's finally here."

"How is she?" Lila demanded as Alan and Nick drew nearer, she was holding Don's hand as if she had dragged him with her like a rag doll.

"Ms Brooks has suffered extensive second and third degree burns to the left side of her body, particularly on the back side of her jaw, neck and shoulder to chest region." The doctor replied un-phased as he pointed to the affected areas in turn. "It's a huge trauma for her body to process and she was having a lot of difficulty breathing as we cleaned the wound so we gave her some medication to make her sleep and have put her on a ventilator for the time being."

"Is she going to be alright?" Alan asked hoarsely, the only one brave enough to ask the question.

"She's stable for the time being but obviously we're concerned about her breathing. I'm afraid Ms Brooks still has quite a battle ahead of her. We'll keep her under close watch though and keep you apprised of any change," The doctor answered smoothly.

"Can we see her?" Lila asked quieter this time as she dropped Don's hand. _She was alive; _Nick couldn't help but think to himself, _that was the main thing._

"There's something else…" The doctor replied hesitantly as he turned to address Don in particular, his expression grave. "Because of the seriousness of the wounds and the trauma sustained...I'm really sorry Mr Eppes but your fiancée miscarried as we were cleaning the wound and removing the dead skin."

"Miscarried?" Don asked shocked, his voice high and rough with confusion as everyone else looked on with varying degrees of shock and horror. It was the first time he had spoken since he'd gotten the call and all he wanted was to be alone with Robin, kissing her, hugging her…comforting her. He just wanted everyone to go away and for everything to just _stop_. He just wanted all of it to go away; he wanted to see her smile again, to hear her voice telling him that she loved him. He wanted to feel the weight of her in his arms, the smell of her so intoxicating that it drove him insane with want, with need. _She'd needed him…and he hadn't been there. _"I don't understand…_she was pregnant?"_

"I'm really sorry for your loss," The doctor replied uncomfortably, head bowed with regret as Lila began to sob once more, this time cradled against Alan for support.

"My _loss_…" Don shook his head violently with supressed rage, his voice thick with grief as he choked on the word 'loss', loss didn't even begin to cover what he was feeling. All those hours that he'd been forced to sit in that _stupid_ plastic chair while Robin had been fighting for her life and losing a baby Don hadn't even known they were going to have. _Had she?_ _Did she know their unborn child was dead? _Ignoring the sucker punch to his heart and the pit that had opened up in his stomach, Don looked back at the doctor with raw grief crackling behind in his stony gaze. They'd had him waiting long enough, "Take me to her. _Now_."


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey, _

_Just a quick message to say that it will be a little while before the next update as I'm going to Vegas and LA on holiday for two weeks as of tomorrow! Woop Woop! (I know I cut these things close!) _

_Meanwhile I hope you enjoy this chapter. The first section was harder to write than I thought it would be, which was why this chapter was so late coming. As always I hope you enjoy and all reviews are welcome. X –Colby'sGirl19_

**Chapter 3:**

_*"You know, when I asked you to marry me, and you said no...you were right. I was trying to figure things out, and I really wanted you to decide for me. I know what I want...more than ever. I want to marry you. Will you marry me?" - Don Eppes._

_Season 5, Episode 16: Cause and Effect*_

Shadowed closely by the others, Don Eppes followed the solemn doctor down the lonely corridor, rigid with fear, rigid with grief. There was a pain inside of him that he couldn't describe, a pain that was beyond any description. It hurt him to think, to breathe, to feel so fucking useless…it just hurt…_everywhere_. There was an ache in his heart, in his lungs, in his soul and he didn't know what else to do. He wanted to scream, he wanted to weep, he wanted to rewind time. _What if she died still?_ _There was just too much they'd left undone, left unsaid, a life planned that they would never get to live. He'd already lost too much that night…_how he was even managing to stand and his knees hadn't caved in beneath him he didn't know. He just knew that he needed to be strong, even if it was only externally…for Robin.

"Before you go in," The doctor told the anxious group as he turned to regard Don warily. "I should warn you that due to the injuries your fiancée has sustained she's going to look a little swollen. It's completely normal; we treat by providing the body with extra fluids. The swelling will go down but it can be anywhere between a few days to a couple of weeks. I guarantee though that the swelling isn't permanent…I just thought you should be prepared before going in there because the location of her injuries make the swelling appear a lot worse than it is."

"Thank you doctor," Alan nodded in reply as Don continued to stare through the doctor at the door behind. _A few inches of wood, that was all that was keeping him and Robin apart. He could brush the doctor aside and walk right in…so why was he suddenly so afraid to move?_

"Ok, well I have rounds to make. I'll be back to look in on Ms Brooks later," The doctor replied as he tucked Robin's chart under his arm and left without so much as a backward glance.

"Don?" Alan asked expectantly but it was Lila who was the first to go charging into the room as Nick and the rookie hung back out of respect for the family.

"I want you to stay here until you're relieved," Nick told the rookie sternly. "I saw reporters downstairs, if any get past security you are to stop them getting near this door."

"Yes sir," The rookie nodded violently as Don followed his father into Robin's hospital room and had to mentally stop himself from crying out as he took in the distressed Lila hovering over her sister's prone body.

"Lila?" Alan asked softly as Don watched Robin's sister sob into the almost unrecognisable handkerchief, her long cherry red hair was coming out of its rough plait and sticking to her face that was streaked with sweat and soot. Yet beneath the grime and teenage rebellion Don could also see Robin's straight nose, her soft lips, her gentle yet proud expression…she was thinner than Robin too, but not by much. She was also smaller but then Robin always had liked her heels, without them Robin's nose would be in line with his mouth and hers with his jaw.

When they were alone she had this way of using his shoulders to lift herself the couple inches until her mouth was on his as his arms wrapped themselves around her waist pulling her closer still. Teasing the corner of his mouth, she would trail a line of kisses down the side of his jaw to his bobbing Adams apple as her body pressed firmly against his with intention..._all he wanted was to hold her like that again, to pull her close…to take her pain away…_

"She looks so peaceful," Lila remarked between hiccups as Alan placed a comforting arm around her bony shoulders. _Don didn't see it personally. He'd seen Robin looking peaceful before…this wasn't it…none of this was right. _

"Hey, why don't we go and phone your parents?" Alan asked kindly as he looked at his distraught son over his shoulder before steering Lila back to the door that Don was still holding open, one foot in the room, one foot out.

"What about Robin? _I can't leave her_," Lila pointed dumbly at her sister as she resisted Alan's gentle pull.

"Trust me," Alan replied quietly as they reached the door and Don stepped into the room out of their way. "The news should come from you. It's what Robin would want. Besides, I'll be there to help you."

"I guess," Lila nodded hesitantly as she took one last glance at the 'peaceful' Robin and let the door swing shut behind them leaving Don alone with his fiancée and suddenly his heart was pounding too fast, his chest too tight…his knees knocking together as he crossed the small room to her bedside.

"_Rob?_" He asked roughly as his knees finally caved until he was kneeling by her left side, but no reply came save for the release of pressure from the ventilator that was making her chest rise and fall rhythmically. "It's ok," He whispered reassuringly as he reached out and brushed the soft tendrils of her hair away from her swollen face. "I'm here," He told her as he took her small pale hand in his large ones, squeezing it with fear until both their hands turned white. "And I'm not leaving," He promised as he watched her pinched face for any recognition that he was even there. "However long it takes," He nodded as his gaze shifted to the wad of bandages that covered her shoulder and chest beneath the thin hospital gown and spied the painful looking red welts on the side of her neck and jaw that looked like they were trying to escape at the edges of her bandages. "So you rest," Don added softly as he heard someone slip into the room behind him but chose to ignore them. "I will be here when you wake up." He whispered in her ear, his forehead pressed against her temple as the tears slid their way down the rough contours of his unshaven cheeks onto the soft white pillow that was propping up the burned areas. "No matter what, I'm not leaving_…I love you_…_come back to me._"

***Break***

Waking suddenly, Karen Hayes sat up straight and looked around the dark room for the source of the noise that had startled her out of sleep, but the room, like her bed, was empty. Heart drumming in her chest, Karen pulled back the curtains of waist length brown hair from her face as she rubbed at her eyes tiredly. _Where was El? What time was it? _

Hearing the slamming of a car door outside, Karen threw back the quilted blankets and turned to slip her feet into her waiting slippers before grabbing her dressing gown from its hook on the back of the door and pulling it on over her flimsy nightgown, slipped out of the room.

Elliott was already stepping into their small house and brushing his large feet on the dirty welcome matt by the time Karen had made her way to the front of the house. "El?" she asked worriedly. "It's late…where have you been?" Walking up to his tall and slightly hunched frame, Karen smelt the ash and soot before she saw it in the dim glow of the automatic porch light on the other side of the partially glass front door. _"What happened?"_

"Is Lucas asleep?" Elliott whispered quietly as he let his wife take his hand and guide him into the small but homely living room that was still warm as the last of the fire's dying embers glowed and crackled in the large brick fireplace.

"It's midnight," She chided him gently as she pulled him down next to her on the overstuffed couch. "Of course he's asleep."

"Good…good…" El nodded violently as he bit his lip painfully and pressed his eyes shut tight. "Good."

"El?" Karen asked worriedly, her shrewd eyes wide with fear as her husband took her hand blindly in his and raised it to his soft lips_. "You're scaring me…"_

"I'm sorry…" Elliott whispered sadly against the back of her hand as he breathed in the scent of her there. "Sorry," He repeated as he opened his eyes and turned to regard her seriously. "There was an explosion at the courthouse; I've been sifting through crap that used to be other crap all day." Placing her hand on his thigh Elliott gestured to his ash and soot stained clothes to emphasise his point.

"An explosion?" She asked numbly as her hand squeezed his thigh with fear. "How many got hurt? Are _you_ ok?"

"I'm fine," He reassured her as he placed his hand on hers and patted it comfortingly. "But a lot of people got hurt…twenty died…"

"People you know?"

"Some," He nodded sadly as he remembered the list that Chris had given him earlier that night.

"I'm sorry El," She frowned sadly as she pulled her husband against her and cradled the bulk of him against her ample chest.

"No. _I'm sorry _I'm home late," He told her sadly as he closed his eyes tiredly once more and just enjoyed the weight of her next to him.

"It's not important," She replied instantly and without hesitation, but Elliott knew his wife and could tell the toll that his increasingly late appearances were having upon her. _She shouldn't have to do this alone;_ his conscience niggled away at him as he took in the signs of his wife and son in the room and tried to fight the fear that one day they could disappear. He was losing them, his attitude and behaviour lately was causing a rift between them…he just didn't know how to snap out of the rut that he had dug himself into since Brian's death.

"I was at the firing range," He explained anyway. "I just needed to shoot the shit out of something…_Kaz_?"

"Yes?"

"You remember SAIC Don Eppes?" Elliott asked his wife without really knowing why.

"Yes," She whispered softly in his ear as she stroked her fingers through his greying hair.

"His fiancée was amongst the injured…she might not make it…" He told her in the darkness as Karen rested her head against his strong shoulder.

"Do you want to go and check on her tomorrow? I can come with you…my sister will watch Lucas," Karen offered kindly, knowing how her husband felt about the FBI team that had ultimately been the reason for his partner's death.

"No…" He shook his head conflicted. "I have other things to do in the morning, like sorting out other witness's statements and a briefing to attend. Besides…I have a couple rookies on the door, they'll report back on any progress…"

"Then come to bed," Karen whispered enticingly as she stood up and pulled her husband with her. "There's nothing else you can do tonight," She added echoing Chris's words at the crime scene earlier and making Elliott's stomach lurch with guilt once more.

Following her anyway, Elliott let his wife undress him and help him into bed. Though he knew sleep would be impossible, Elliott closed his eyes anyway and pulled his wife into his strong embrace, just content to be able to hold her in his arms as she drifted back to sleep.

***The Next Day***

Drumming his fingers on thighs with impatience, Ian Edgerton scanned the airport's large departures lounge from his carefully picked spot in the corner, not nearly as relaxed as he was pretending to be. His back was too straight, his legs spread wide and his right hand never strayed far from the gun on his hip.

Resting his hand on Ian's, Charlie curled their fingers together until they were interlocked and no longer able to drum. "You don't have to come you know?" Charlie told Ian guiltily for the thousandth time since receiving the news about Robin. "If you're not ready, _Don will understand."_

"Anyone would think you don't want me to come," Ian smiled mischievously as he let his right hand stray away from the gun long enough to press his palm against Charlie's rough stubbled cheek as his fingers stroked teasingly at the back of Charlie's neck.

"Ian…I'm serious…" Charlie whispered hotly against Ian's wrist as he struggled to remember his train of thought as Ian leaned in closer until only a few inches separated them. "If you're not ready then-"

"-Charlie," Ian chided playfully as he moved his thumb slowly to trace Charlie's lips enticingly. "I love you. Don and Robin are family. Of course I'm coming."

"But…if you're not ready I don't want-"

"_Charlie_. _I'm here ok?_ I'm not leaving," Ian interrupted forcefully as he dropped his hand to rest on his gun as he turned his face away from Charlie's to scan the crowd once more.

"Ian?" Charlie asked confused but Ian refused to look back.

"They called our flight," Ian replied stonily, refusing to meet Charlie's eyes as he got up, slung his bag across his back and grabbed his coat from the seat next to him.

"Ok," Charlie sighed sadly as he stood up and followed behind Ian who had also grabbed Charlie's carry on and was now headed swiftly towards their gate for boarding without looking back once to make sure Charlie was even keeping up.

Charlie got that Ian was hardly a talk about his feelings kind of guy but that didn't stop it hurting every time Ian shut him out either. One minute he could be so loving, so hot and playful and the next? He would morph into this impenetrable wall. He had blown so hot and cold these past six weeks it was hard for Charlie to keep up. He should be relieved that Ian was coming right? So why was he suddenly so unsure?

Reaching the line to hand their tickets over to board, Ian sighed and turned around to face Charlie at last. "I'm sorry ok?" Ian whispered remorsefully as he took Charlie's hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze of apology. "I'm ready, I am…it's just going to be hard is all. _Ok_?"

"Ok," Charlie smiled weakly, biting his tongue to avoid another argument as Ian handed the stewardess their tickets. "Let's just get home. _Ok?_" He told Ian, dropping his hand as he boarded the plane, this time leaving it to Ian to keep up.

***Break***

Jolting awake, his mind still thick with sleep, Don Eppes pulled his gun from its holster and pointed it in the direction of the noise that had awoken him. "Shit!" The young doctor screamed out with shock as he flung his hands up in surrender making the coffee in his hand spill out, staining the lapels of his white coat. "_Don't shoot!"_

"_Don?"_ Lila asked confused from the corner of the room where she had made herself a makeshift bed from a couple of armchairs and her and Don's coats. As a student Don presumed she was used to sleeping in random places and it hadn't taken her long to soon pass out the night before, finding temporary relief from the hell of the day in her dreams.

"Sorry!" Don mumbled apologetically as he looked from the tousled and sleepy Lila to the tall and very still doctor before realising that he was still pointing his gun. "_I'm sorry_," He repeated as he lowered his arm and dropped the gun onto the hospital bed's stiff mattress next to Robin's thigh before dropping his tired face into his shaking hands and tried to scrub away the memory of the nightmares that had chased him long into the night and into the early hours of the morning. To say that he had not found relief in _his_ dreams was an understatement!

"It's ok," The doctor replied understandingly as he shakily approached the hunched FBI agent with caution and held out the slightly less filled coffee cup. "A nurse thought you might need a coffee," He added as way of explanation for his sudden appearance. "I was coming to check on Ms Brooks anyway," He shrugged as if it was nothing, though Don suspected that the intern was just embarrassed that he was taking orders from a nurse and wondered just how formidable this one must be to make the intern who looked like he could have been the all-star quarterback of a high school football team do her bidding.

"I'm sorry," Don shook his head in apology, "But I don't feel like coffee…"

"Oh…that's ok," The intern replied hesitantly as he placed the still dripping coffee cup on the hospital table at the foot of Robin's bed unsure what else to do with it. "I'll get rid of it in a sec…" He added stoically as he took the chart from the tray on the end of Robin's bed and gave it a once over before turning to the equipment next to her bed and scrawled something down.

"How is she?" Lila asked quietly, her voice shaking as she held Don's long black coat up under her chin. She reminded Don of a small child as she turned her large brown Disneyesque eyes on the unprepared intern who looked unsure how to respond. Even with her face devoid of makeup and scarlet hair mussed Lila looked beautiful, much like her sister whose long brown hair was currently fanned out across the bright white pillow around her head like a halo, though Robin would be the first to admit that she was no angel.

"There isn't much change I'm afraid," He replied making Don wince internally…why had he expected differently? Why had he let himself hope? He could see for himself that nothing had changed in the few hours he'd been asleep. Sometimes he had to remind himself that he was no longer dreaming, this was the real world. Miracles don't happen here. "Her breathing has improved a little! Though still not enough to remove her from the ventilator…" The guy offered lamely in reply as he dropped the chart back into its tray and made a b-line straight for the door, desperate to be anywhere else.

Knowing that the situation was hopeless and knowing that he was helpless anyway; Don let the young man leave and turned instead to his fiancée. Her breathing was improving. It was only a small thing but Don would take it. Hell he'd take anything right now if it could be considered a sign of improvement!

"He left the coffee…" Lila replied sadly and a little sleepily as she stared at the coffee as if she unsure why it was even there.

"Why not give it to the police officer outside," Don told her gently, worried she might start crying again as she got up and moved over to the stained coffee cup and picked it up. "He's been here all night…he could probably do with one anyway…"

"Ok…" She nodded dumbly, still a little dazed from the night before. Don wondered if he also looked as dazed, as afraid…as lost…he supposed he probably did…

"Rob," Don whispered to Robin when Lila had finally closed the door behind her. "Don't you worry about what that intern thinks, I mean he's practically a child! Probably doesn't even know which end of a stethoscope to use..._you're doing just fine_! Do you hear me? You just concentrate on getting better and let me figure out the rest..._ok_?"_ Figure out the rest?_ _Who was he kidding? There was no 'rest' without Robin…_

Dropping his gaze to his service weapon by Robin's side, Don sighed with regret. He needed to get a grip, Robin needed him to be strong for her. This wasn't him being strong. He needed to do better, he needed to _be_ better.

"I'm still here…do you hear me?" Don whispered frustratedly as he clutched her hand in his once more. "Remember, I'm right here and I'm as stubborn as you are so I'm not leaving until you're better. So the way I see it you don't really have a choice…ok? Ok…good." Holstering his weapon once more, Don gave Robin's hand a gentle squeeze as he leaned in and brushed his lips against her temple. She was going to be ok…he had faith. "You're going to be just fine."

_Dear God don't make me a liar…_

***Break***

Locking his car and rushing over to the precinct's basement elevator, detective Christopher Morrison called out for the lift to be held as he only just sprinted fast enough to slip through the crack before the metal doors clamped shut behind him.

"Thank you sir," Chris puffed heavily as he bent over and rested his hands on his knees until he had regained his breath.

"You ok Morrison?" The captain laughed affectionately as he patted the young detective on the back.

"Uh huh," Chris laughed back as he stood up and squeezed at the stich in his side. It wasn't that he was unfit; he'd just sprinted from the other end of the car park because he was running that late…but then if the Captain was only just arriving maybe it didn't count…or at least he hoped so. Elliott would probably be pissed though, unfortunately that was inevitable these days as far as Chris was concerned. He could only imagine the scowl that Elliott would be wearing on his unshaven and tired looking face; his suit dishevelled even though it was only eight am and his tie hanging loose as the older detective rested his feet on his strong, slightly cluttered desk, leaning back in his old wooden desk chair. Elliott had always reminded Chris of a nineteen twenties private eye or one of those old film noire detectives, the only thing Elliott was missing was the matching hat, which was odd because there was one hanging on the coat stand just behind Elliott's desk. He just never wore it and got touché if Chris ever went near it or even looked at it wrong...

"How's homicide treating you?" The captain asked mildly but Chris could hear the hidden subtext behind the question. The captain really wanted to know how Elliott was treating him, which was a bit of a loaded question. Chris knew that he was Elliott's third partner since the death of Detective Hamilton; he also knew that the captain had issued a 'three strikes' and you're out policy as far as El was concerned. Screw up this time and El could find himself facing suspension.

"Fine sir, just fine," Chris lied easily as he looked to the numbers above the door and pleaded with them to change faster.

"…And detective Hayes?" The captain asked again, this time just coming right out with it and making Chris wish he had just waited for the next elevator, lateness be damned.

"Elliott is a fantastic detective," Chris replied firmly with conviction, he was certainly a legend within the department as far as numbers went. He'd just fallen on hard times lately. Chris wasn't going to persecute El for that, even if the other detectives did, even if it meant Chris had to put up with the constant mood swings…and the insults…and the other detectives taking odds on when El would make Chris cry, yeah…he knew about that… "I'm lucky to learn from the best."

"Yes…" The captain nodded uncertainly making Chris shift his gaze with interest from the increasing numbers above the door to look at the captain through slanted eyes. "If anything changes I want to be informed immediately. Understood?"

"Of course sir," Chris nodded as the metal doors slid open to a busy and packed department.

"And Morrison," The captain added, as Chris started to make his way through the throng of people to his desk.

"Sir?" Chris asked as he turned back to the captain who stood one foot in his office one foot out as he rested his hand uncertainly upon the door handle.

"You're being loyal to detective Hayes, which is generous considering…but I'm serious about you coming to me. It may seem unfair but at the end of the day the department comes first, people's safety needs to come first."

"Of course," Chris replied hesitantly as the captain entered his office and shut the door firmly behind him.

"Morrison! You're late!" Elliott boomed over the heads of the chattering crowd as he waved the young detective over.

"What's going on?" Chris asked guiltily as he took off his jacket and laid it over the back of his chair. "What are these people doing here?"

"Being interviewed," Elliott replied gruffly as a couple detectives came out of interrogation and handed Elliott their reports before waving the next couple of people through.

"Are they the bomb vic's?" Chris asked bewildered. It was early, how had Elliott arranged all of this? When had Elliott arranged all of this?

"No, their applying to become detectives," Elliott sneered as Chris sat down and reached across his own desk to take the reports from El's. "Of course they're the bomb vic's."

"And you're interviewing _all of them_? _Now_?" Chris asked as he ignored the old detective's tone.

"Witnesses are unreliable at the best of times and untrustworthy the rest of the time," Elliott replied, parroting his father's old saying as he took the reports back and crossed off the names that corresponded to the list that Chris had given detective Hayes the day before. "Every time a witness retells their story it changes, they tell their love ones and it gets embellished to the point where the witness can no longer differentiate between what they made up and what actually happened. So yeah, I'm interviewing them all now. Pick a vic and jump right in, there's still plenty to get statements from."

"Of course," Chris nodded as he bit his tongue and tried to ignore the lecture. Elliott was in a particularly bad mood this morning, and Chris was just relieved to have an excuse to get out of El's way for the time being.

"Oh, and Morrison," Elliott added, looking up from his reports as Chris started to walk away. "I've pushed the briefing back to this afternoon so when you're done helping here I want you to check in with the officer at the hospital. Ms Brooks is our prime witness…I want a full report on her condition." Sliding his eyes away, his Adam's apple bobbling with suppressed emotion, Elliott dismissed his young partner with the flick of a wrist and returned to his work.

***Break***

"_You came back," She smiled menacingly, baring her teeth as she crawled closer to his semi-naked body. "I knew you would," She whispered teasingly as her hand stroked playfully down the long cut that ran from his eyebrow to his chin before moving to his neck and torso, then further south to the waistband of the incredible tight trousers she had dressed him in earlier. _

"_Did I have a choice?" Ian whispered bitterly as she stroked him there, gaining momentum but gaining no reaction. _

"_There is always a choice," she pouted disappointedly as she rocked back onto her heels and watched as he shuffled into a sitting position, which wasn't easy considering he was chained to the radiator with his own handcuffs. _

"_Did it hurt?" She smiled cruelly as she watched him wince from the pain that was radiating in his wrists up to his aching shoulders as she pressed down hard on the fresh bullet wound in his shoulder. _

"_I've had worse," Ian laughed angrily as he shook off her touch and relished in the flash of anger to break her steely composure. _

"_Well then…I hope that you can forgive me," Debbie Harris whispered tauntingly as she leaned in close to his ear and kissed him on the corner of his jaw. _

"_What did you say?" Ian replied harshly as the long strands of her hair fell forwards and tickled his chest. _

"_You know what I said Julian…'__Sana mapatawad mo ako'…"_

"_Mother?" Ian hissed confused as the woman hugging him leaned back on her heels once more but it was no longer the LA child snatcher but the woman who had abandoned him when he was only five years old. "I waited for you…" He told her angrily as she smiled at him fondly, her hand snaking its way down his chest as if playing connect the dots with all of his scars._

"_Not long enough," She bit back angrily, slapping him hard across the face so that the cut down the side of his face opened up once more. _

"_Well then…I hope that you can forgive me," Ian sneered angrily, his teeth stained red as blood ran down his cheeks into his mouth and onto his bare chest. _

"_Pardon?" She shouted angrily as she slapped him once more. "What did you say?" _

"_You know what I said mother…'__Sana mapatawad mo ako'…" Ian replied sarcastically, laughing cruelly until she was standing over him, beating him until everything else faded away to black and all he could remember was the pain and the metallic taste it left in his mouth…_

"_Ian?_" Charlie asked worriedly as Ian flung his eyes open and scrabbled with his seat belt before launching himself down the plane's narrow isle to the empty toilet at the end of the row of seats. "Ian!" Charlie shouted again as he also scrambled with his seatbelt before flinging himself down the small isle. "What's wrong? What's the matter? Come on Ian," Charlie shouted as he beat on the plane's toilet's thin door. "Open up…_IAN_?"

"Go away Charlie," Ian called back through the door as he flushed away the evidence that he had been sick.

"You know I won't," Charlie replied stubbornly as he leaned against the wall and waited for Ian to open the door. "I'll camp out here until the end of the flight if I have to!"

Watching with satisfaction, Charlie waited until the lock had finished changing from 'occupied' to 'empty' before pushing the small door in to reveal Ian with his back against the wall, his face pale and his usually steady hands shaking. "Ian," He whispered comfortingly as he stepped inside, shut the door and locked it once more.

"You know I had a fantasy that went a lot like this once," Ian smiled crookedly as he raised a suggestive eyebrow and reached out to pull Charlie close.

"Don't," Charlie sighed as he stepped back out of Ian's reach and rested his back against the opposite wall. In the small space only half a meter actually separated them and yet in Charlie's opinion it might as well have been the Grand Canyon, Ian was that closed off. "I want to know what happened back there."

"I had a bad dream," Ian shrugged as if it was nothing, but Charlie could tell by the way Ian was avoiding his gaze that it had meant everything.

"A nightmare?" He shook his head confused. Ian hadn't mentioned anything before about nightmares…not that he had actually slept that much in the past six weeks.

"It was nothing," Ian replied as he crossed his arms guardedly, his tone challenging.

"Was it to do with…what happened?" Charlie asked as delicately as he knew how, he wanted Ian to open up but could see that Ian was already suppressing his emotions, pushing them down further and further until he was the irrepressible and carefree agent Edgerton once more.

"No…yes…sort of," Ian replied angrily, but his anger was not directed at Charlie. "I was back there…in that room and then my mother was there…"

"Your mother?" Charlie asked confused as Ian raked his long slender fingers through his black hair and scratched at the back of his head. Charlie knew that he'd had a rough time in foster care but Ian had never offered any information about his birth mother before.

"It was just part of a memory from my childhood…" Ian shrugged again, this time a little defeatedly. "When Debbie was holding me in that room…it brought back the memory of my mother abandoning me at some youth center when I was five…this is the first time the nightmare and the memory have merged."

"How often do you have these nightmares?" Charlie shook his head disappointedly, why hadn't Ian just let him in before?

"Too often…" Ian looked down ashamed. This wasn't him. He was the breeze past it and move on guy. He had no worries, concerns or burdens…but these days it was like the world was weighing him down. He couldn't move on because he was stuck there, in that tiny room where the only light was from a dying cell phone that he'd had to press with his toes to get to flash back up again.

"_Ian_," Charlie sighed his name sadly as he moved the half a meter to stand inches from Ian before he finally took him in his arms and held him there as Ian breathed in the slightly chalky scent of him.

"It's fine," Ian whispered as he pulled back enough to look Charlie in his beautifully warm brown eyes. "As soon as we get to LA I'll get a new doctor Telford and hopefully they'll help me move on."

"I'm sure they will," Charlie smiled back, more positive than he actually felt.

"In the meantime," Ian replied as he leaned in to cuddle Charlie once more, his hand slipping into those long brown curls of his, "I really do have a fantasy that goes a lot like this…" Kissing Charlie deeply, Ian pushed him gently until Charlie's back was against the wall once more as they suddenly became a desperate tangle of hands and clothes fighting in a small space as they both tried to comfort and satisfy the other first.

***Break***

Standing up as the nurse slowly backed into Robin's hospital room, Don walked over and held the door open as she pulled a trolley loaded with bandages and salves through.

"What's all this for?" Lila asked confused as she and Alan both stood up from their seats in the corner of the room and joined Don as he moved back over to Robin's side.

"We need to change the dressing," The nurse nodded at the giant wad of bandages over Robin's shoulder as the young intern from before entered the room closely followed by agent Colby Granger, who had turned up earlier and had since gone to fetch coffee whenever Don asked.

"With burn patients the risk of infection is a high one, we need to wash the wound and change the bandages twice a day, when Ms brooks is strong enough we will take her to our admission room to change her bandages but for now here will do," The intern explained patiently as Colby put the two coffee's on the bureau by Robin's head.

"You might want to wait outside while we do this," The plump nurse told them all kindly as Alan promptly steered a complaining Lila outside.

"I've seen worse," Don told her harshly as Alan finished wrestling Robin's sister from the room.

"Not on the woman you love you haven't," She replied respectfully as Colby clamped a supportive hand down on Don's shoulder.

"There's no weakness in waiting outside," Colby told him gently in his gruff voice.

"I told her I'm not leaving," Don whispered uncertainly as he looked down at his unconscious fiancée and winced.

"We're staying," Colby told the nurse and intern without hesitation, an authoritative firmness to his voice that hadn't been there before.

"Thanks," Don whispered gratefully to Colby as they both stepped back to let the nurse and intern get on with it. He'd made a vow to be stronger for Robin, and that was just what he was going to be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_*"Do you think I need help?" – Don Eppes,_

"_I don't think they've made a person yet who doesn't." -__Megan Reeves._

_Season 3, Episode 14: Take Out*_

He hadn't looked away. He'd wanted to so badly, but he hadn't, instead he'd forced himself to be as brave as he knew Robin would have been. He had positioned himself next to Colby and braced his legs to stop them from crumbling beneath him as he watched the nurse pull back on the bandages, knowing that no matter what he couldn't look away. He wouldn't let Robin face it alone. He couldn't. She needed him andthere was no way he was going to let Robin down.

_Thank God she isn't awake!_ Don couldn't help but think as he tried to school his tense features. He knew it was selfish but he didn't want her to know just how badly he was handling the situation. No doubt she would have handled it better because she was stronger than him and he loved that about her. Others thought she was cold, uncaring, abrasive even and it had earned her the nickname 'Ice Bitch' amongst the other attorneys. Don knew better though. Robin was kind; she was funny and a beautifully sensitive woman. It would break her heart to see the kind of revulsion that was in his eyes right now, so for the first time in twenty four hours he was relieved that she couldn't see it, and only prayed that she couldn't feel it either because the wound was bad. Worse than bad…it was horrific.

Robin's skin, her beautiful, pale and flawless skin, was burnt and singed, dry and wrinkled and yet at the same time wet and loose. From just below her ear, along the jaw and down her neck the yellow, black, brown and red skin shone and puckered as it cracked a painful path down her chest, teasing the top of her breast, under her arm and to her side…but despite it all, the knot of guilt in his stomach twisting tighter, his heart drumming so hard and fast that he was worried it would burst out of his chest and the sick burning the back of his throat making his eyes water, special agent in charge Don Eppes _hadn't looked away_. He had managed that much at least.

"All done," Don heard the plump nurse cluck sympathetically at Lila and Alan as she slowly backed back out of the room with the trolley of used bandages in tow. The intern had stayed behind and was eying Don warily from the other side of Robin's bed. Whatever had him fidgeting, Don figured it couldn't be good. Picking up Robin's hand once more, Don sat down and waited patiently for the young man to find his voice.

"Dr Foster will be in presently to discuss Ms Brooks care…" The intern started but faltered as Lila and Alan entered the room followed by a tall, lavish and overly intimidating looking man.

"Judge Steven Brooks," The older man introduced himself as he extended his wrinkled but strong hand out to the young intern, his sleeve riding back so that his genuine gold Rolex flashed expensively in the hospitals harsh neon lighting. "Robin's father."

"Tony Griffiths, I'm the intern that's been assigned to your daughter's case," The kid explained, mesmerised by Steven's both friendly and aggressive manner.

"_Oh thank God_!" Steven exclaimed loudly as he dropped the intern's hand and turned to look at his daughter. "I thought this kid was her doctor!"

"He's one of them _dad_," Lila whined back as both her and the intern's cheeks flared red with embarrassment, almost as red as her hair.

"As I was just explaining to your daughter's fiancé," The intern, Tony, replied as he shuffled anxiously on the spot in front of the well-tailored man, an edge to previously kind voice, "Dr Foster will be by shortly to discuss your daughter's case."

"I don't want you or any of her _other_ doctors discussing anything with that man," Steven exclaimed dramatically as he turned his judicial glare upon Don, who was still sat beside Robin, squeezing her hand. _Can she hear any of this?_ Don wondered sadly as he looked back at his soon to be father in law with nothing but contempt. You hear stories about people in comas; they wake up and remember everything. _Would she? _He hoped not. It would break her heart to know that they were fighting, if you could really call Steven blowing hot air at everyone fighting.

"That _man_ is your daughter's fiancé," Colby argued back as he moved beside his boss and friend and laid a comforting hand of support on Don's solid shoulder. _The same shoulder that Robin had hurt…the same shoulder that was currently boiled and blistered beneath those thick bandages…_

"He's also the reason that Robin was in the courthouse that day. It's his fault she got hurt," Steven bit back with a similar protective anger to Colby's, but for once Don could see that Steven's was coming from a deeper place of love and forgave him for acting out. After all, Don agreed with him. She had gone because of a case he had asked her to look into…

_I'm sorry;_ he told her silently and gave her hand an extra squeeze. _Don't leave me. Not yet, not now and definitely not like this! _

"No daddy…it's not," Lila whispered sadly as she moved between the frozen and unresponsive Don and her fuming and well groomed father. "She went to the courthouse yesterday to pick up a file from her assistant Michael…he forgot to give it to her the night before so technically it's his fault. Or mine, I could have stopped her, told her to get the file later…dad," She paused as every eye in the room fell upon Lila's small hunched frame with interest, even the young intern's. "She was pregnant…they lost the baby and she's still not out of the woods yet. You've been here all of five minutes while we've been here all night…stop behaving like a jerk and be here for _us_, as well as her or don't bother being here at all." Sticking her chin out in defiance, Don watched Lila as she faced off her formidable father and won. _Robin would have been proud_, Don definitely was. Lila had moments when she could be the biggest flake and then others like this one where Don could see the lawyer she would become. _Harvard had better watch out._

"Well I…pregnant? Jesus…Don I…does she know?" Don supposed it was the closest that Steven would ever come to an apology but Don couldn't reply. He didn't have the words to do so. Just thinking about what they had lost…he felt an anger deep in his gut like a white hot poker that closed off his throat and made him want to hit something…but couldn't because he needed to be strong. Better, he needed to be more like Ian. He needed to take everything, the pain, the grief and the hopelessness and push it all down where no one could see. His pain didn't matter, he could fall apart later. Right now Robin was his only focus, his only priority.

"Ms Brooks has been out of it since she arrived, it's unlikely she knows," Tony answered for Don who was still sat numbly beside his fiancée as Dr Foster entered the room, seemingly unperturbed by the large group of people gathered around his patient and unaware of the guilt that was twisting all of their guts.

"Good morning," He greeted them all as he picked up Robin's chart, jotted a few notes and then turned to introduce himself to Steven who somehow looked smaller than when he had first entered earlier. "My names Dr Foster, I'm handling Ms Brooks case." He explained as Steven shook the doctor's hand.

"Steven Brooks, Robin's father."

"Ah good," Dr Foster nodded before moving over to his intern and handed the chart over. "I wanted to discuss and walk you through the next procedure; it's useful that you're altogether." Don got the distinct impression that Dr Foster was a little odd and more than a little scattered, but he'd been told the night before by a nurse that Dr Foster was also the best burn's and plastic's Dr in LA so Don guessed he could forgive the doctor his small oddities. _So long as he saves her,_ because Don wouldn't even know how to try going on without her, didn't even want to consider it a possibility.

"When will she wake up?" Steven cut in before the doctor could continue, addressing Dr Foster as if he was a witness on the stand. Before he'd retired and become a federal judge, Steven Brooks had been one of the highest paid defence lawyers in the country with several high profile clients and the habit was unfortunately hard to kick. Most people would have been intimidated by the way Steven seemed to suck all the air from the room and blow it back at them with his charmingly aggressive manner but not Dr Foster and Don liked that about the older man.

"At the moment we have her under sedation because of concerns over smoke damage to her trachea and lungs. Your daughter has suffered heavy damage to her chest and it's affecting her breathing so we intubated her and put her on a ventilator. The next step is determining when she can come off the ventilator." Dr Foster replied smoothly, the look on his round and creased face a mixture of sympathy and irritation. Don often felt the same way after five minutes in a room with Robin and her father.

Steven hadn't been the best father to Robin or Lila. Robin claimed it was because Steven was a busy man, being a federal judge…and chairman of his local country club but Don knew it was because Steven Brooks was a jerk and all round douche. Over the years he'd spent more time at the nineteenth hole than with either of his two daughters making his and Robin's relationship a complicated story of a daughter's search for love and validation from a father who had abandoned her as a girl. Robin tried to be brave because Steven had been her hero growing up, and the reason she had even gotten into law, but even Robin had grown tired of making excuses for him when Steven had cancelled a dinner arrangement with her and Don to toast the engagement. Don wondered if Steven even knew the pain he had inflicted upon _both_ his daughter's over the years…

"And when will you know?" Steven asked, this time his tone laced with impatience.

"That is what I am here to discuss. It's a recent procedure that they have started up in ICU's."

"Meaning it's new? Experimental?"

"If he'd meant new or experimental he'd have said it _dad_," Lila chided as she took his hand and gave it a little pinch. "Stop being difficult," She whispered angrily as she turned back to the doctor and asked: "What does it involve?"

"We call it a sedation vacation, it's a daily or shift assessment where the sedation is weaned off or turned off to allow for a neurovascular check to assess readiness to extubate. It is the best way of getting an indication that your sister is ready to breathe on her own. The procedure is designed to reduce the time patients need to be on a ventilator for. Before this it was a guessing game to determine when patients were ready. This way we'll know and be able to make a more detailed decision as to the care your sister needs to receive," Tony replied kindly.

"You're going to wake her up?" Colby asked surprised, hope shining in his gruff voice.

"Yes," Dr Foster nodded a little longer than was necessary as if he was trying to hypnotise the crowd with his bobbing head. "Sedation Vacation's help orientate patients to their surroundings and their situation. It helps with the weaning process which is the next stage."

"And how long before she's weaned of the ventilator?" Steven asked a little shyly, the closest he would ever to come to being able to restrain his natural urge to dominate the situation.

"That all depends on Ms Brooks. As soon as she can support her own breathing I'll take her off the ventilator. Dr Griffiths here will start bringing her out of sedation and then I'll be back later to assess and talk to her." Dr foster replied kindly as he moved over to the door ready to leave.

"How long until she wakes up?" Lila asked sadly as her dad laid his arm over her small shoulders and hugged her to him, she looked tiny next to his bulky frame.

"It's different with every patient," Dr Foster explained patiently as he opened the door ready to step outside. "I'm afraid with burn injuries it's a waiting game. She'll wake when the sedation wares off but there is no telling when that will be. You have a few hours yet."

"_Hours_…" Lila repeated back miserably and Don knew where she was coming from. What he would give to look into Robin's beautiful kind eyes and have her see him back…and he had to wait hours for it? On top of that they didn't even know how Robin would react when she did wake up and Don was starting to question if there would ever be an end to this nightmare.

"I'm afraid so," Dr Foster grimaced unhelpfully. _Why did people always say that? I'm afraid so, I'm afraid we don't have that…I'm afraid I can't help…what are you really afraid of? _Don wanted to ask the doctor but decided not to voice the bitterness and frustration he felt inside. He was just tired and angry and that wasn't the doctor's fault.

"Ok," Lila nodded joltingly as she looked up to the ceiling in a strong attempt to stop the tears from falling before shrugging off her father's heavy arm to sit down next to Robin, opposite Don.

"I'm going to start weaning Ms Brooks off sedation now," Tony informed the group, reminding them of his presence.

"I've got some calls to make," Steven told no one in particular before ducking from the room. Don knew there was nothing Steven could do to help Robin right now, even he had some calls he needed to make, Don just couldn't imagine leaving Robin for a second and resented Steven for never treating Robin better, for never making her his number one priority…for never loving her as much as she deserved to be loved…

"There," Tony told them as he quickly made one last note on the chart and fiddled with one of her IV bags. "I'll be back to check on her constantly, but _if_ Ms Brooks should wake while I'm on rounds, just send the nurse to fetch me or have her page Dr Foster."

"Thanks," Lila smiled weakly, stroking his strong arm through the white coat that was still stained from earlier with the coffee Don had made him spill. Don guessed he didn't have a spare and felt bad for scaring the kid by pulling his gun earlier. What he really needed was to get some proper sleep; he just knew trying would be pointless. As tired as Don felt he also felt too wired. He couldn't rest, not properly, not until he knew Robin was home and safe with him.

"Er, no problem," The intern blushed as he tucked the chart under his arm and headed past her to the door that Steven had left open in his haste to make his '_calls'_.

"Coffee?" Alan asked the room in general as he folded and unfolded his hands in his lap, desperate just to be of use. Don knew Alan was worried about Robin, and himself…but Don didn't have the strength to placate his father or to let him in…to tell him not to worry and Don felt guilty about that. _Just one more thing to add to the list of things to feel guilty about._

"No thanks Alan," Lila replied kindly as Don only shook his head in response. He'd had too much coffee already and didn't understand why it was the default thing to do anyway. You see it everywhere, on TV or in books. If you're in hospital then you're either getting coffee or your drinking it and he'd had enough. _Coffee wasn't going to help Robin and it definitely wasn't going to make things magically better._ _Why was he the only one who could see that?_

"I'll have a cup," Colby smiled sympathetically as he moved to join Alan, who still looked at a loss over how to help his unresponsive son. Don felt bad as he watched the door close behind them, leaving him and Lila alone with Robin, but it was as if he couldn't feel it, any of it. He knew he should have just accepted the coffee, said something, _anything_…it just felt like he didn't know how to anymore. Whenever he opened his mouth to speak it was as if the words couldn't get past the lump in his throat or simply died on his lips. He knew that sounded ridiculous but it was as if he was frozen, suspended over a giant abyss and he could feel…none of it.

Just pain…something raw and gutting and self-destructive and it took all of his strength just to push it down and lock it away…like Ian would. Funny, Don was really starting to get a new appreciation for how hard it must be to be 'The Great Agent Ian Edgerton' and felt guilty once more for not making the effort to check in with Ian more over the past six weeks. Don had told himself that Charlie could handle it but Charlie shouldn't have had to handle it alone. Don realised that now and really wished Charlie was here, even if his little brother did have a history for handling difficult situations badly. He just wanted Charlie here with him…

Closing his eyes in a fake attempt at sleep, Don let Lila believe he had drifted off so as to avoid any kind of awkward conversation. They had hours to kill and he didn't want to spend it making small talk. If that made him a jerk for not trying to be there for Robin's sister then he was a jerk. Besides, his father and Colby would be back with the coffee soon, they wanted to do something for him? Then they could do that, be there for Lila because right now Don was doing a bad enough job of just being there for Robin.

_I'm sorry Rob,_ he told her silently, squeezing her hand until it turned white and waited, semi-patiently, for the moment he could tell her when she woke up.

***Break***

"I've gone over all of the reports and there isn't a single thing they can agree on," detective Chris Morrison told Elliott disbelievingly as he handed over the statements he'd just spent the last couple hours taking.

"I've yet to get a useable lead either," Elliott shrugged indifferently as he tossed the folder onto the top of his desk without even looking at it. "No one saw or heard anything even remotely useful. The only ones that were even close enough are in are morgue right now."

"What about Ms Brooks? Those kinds of injuries, you'd have to be pretty close to the bomb or bomber…" Chris reminded El, not that he'd forgotten. Robin had been playing on Elliott's mind all morning. _Was she ok? Was Don ok? Why did he even care? Did he even care? Of course he cared…damn it!_

"As far as I understand it she is unconscious at the moment," Elliott sighed tiredly as he scrubbed at his face with his rough, calloused hands.

"Well I'm about to head over there anyway. There's still time before the briefing right?" Chris asked concernedly as he picked up his beaten leather jacket from the back of his chair and began to pull it on.

"There's time," Elliott nodded as he pushed back in his desk chair and got up to pull on his own coat.

"You coming with?"

"No," Elliott grumbled as he pulled a different report from his desk, scattering the pile of other cases that a detective had just come by and stacked on top. The explosion was not their only case that was on going at the moment but it was the only one El was going to give any attention to. He'd hand off some of the other cases to the other detectives in the department that weren't being reassigned to the courthouse bombing and he'd get to the others when he could.

"Oh…" Chris replied when Elliott didn't elaborate further and busied himself with pulling the scattered files back into some form of a pile.

"I'm going to the morgue," Elliott sighed as he tucked the report under his arm and pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat. "See what Claudia's managed to find…"

"You should come by the hospital after," Chris told him firmly, a lot firmer than he had intended. He didn't want to tell El what to do but he could see that his partner wanted to come, El just needed a little nudge…so Chris guessed that this was him…nudging…

"I…" Elliott had been about to refuse but stopped at the last minute. "I'll see if I have time after." He offered instead. The kid meant well after all.

"Good," Chris smiled relieved as he and Elliott moved over to the elevator together. It had been a whole hour since El had last shouted at him…it was progress…sort of…

"Stop smiling," El grouched as he pushed the button for the parking garage and prevented further conversation by sticking his nose into the CSI's preliminary report before heading in the opposite direction to his cherry red Chevy Impala without even so much as a 'goodbye' or 'see you later'. Shaking his head wryly Chris smiled again and headed in the direction of his own silver Chevy Camaro.

***Break***

He didn't know when he'd passed out, or how much time had passed since but he did know enough to know that something wasn't right. Alarms were ringing, Lila was screaming and Robin's hand was no longer in his. Scrambling in his seat, Don wrenched his sleep crusted eyes open and reached for his now empty holster. Thankfully he had given his gun to Colby after the last time he'd accidently drawn it…

"What's happening?" Lila screamed frantically as Alan and Steven wrestled her back as doctors and nurses swarmed Robin's bed from both sides.

"Robin?" Don whispered confused as he stood up and watched with horror as the intern and nurse pulled at a wrist each and held them down, pinning them as Robin continued to thrash erratically in her bed. "What's going on?" Don demanded furiously, causing Lila to still in her progress to get to her sister's side.

"She woke up and she just started pulling at all the wires!" Lila cried deep, heaving sobs as her body caved in and it became a job to keep her propped up.

"Ms Brooks," Dr Foster spoke loudly as he leaned over Robin and tried to get her to focus on him and not the team of doctors currently restraining her in her bed. "You're in hospital," He enunciated carefully but Robin was too afraid or too groggy to listen properly.

"Get out of the way," Don told the doctor sternly and thought the older man might refuse for a moment until he apparently thought better of it. Don knew he must look a state in his wrinkled suit and loosened tie, his greasy finger combed hair standing up at odd angles and his blood red eyes cracked from lack of sleep and grief but he was also the only one that could get her to calm down. He didn't know how he knew…he just did.

"Rob?" He forced a smile as he placed his hands on either side of her head and turned her to face him. "It's Don. I'm here baby," He whispered as he gently massaged the back of her head where it met her spine and waited for her eyes to focus on his before speaking again. Her thrashing had stopped at the mention of his name. "You were in an accident," He told her gently as the intern and nurse let go of her wrists when Don waved at them to back away as well and propped himself up on the side of the hospital bed's stiff mattress.

Reaching up to her neck and mouth, Robin tried to pull at the tube again before Don took her exploratory hand in his and held it tightly against his chest as he stroked her cheek with his thumb. "You're in hospital," He told her softly as her gaze flickered briefly to Dr Foster then back to Don. "That's right, he's your doctor," Don nodded and smiled, though the effort hurt and he could feel it bursting his chest. "He needs to check on you…ok? But I'm going to be here with you…the whole way. So if you get scared, just squeeze my hand ok? Ok." Don smiled reassuringly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes and he only hoped Robin couldn't tell that he was shattering into a thousand pieces inside.

"Hello Robin," Dr Foster tried again as he stepped back up to Robin's bedside and began his neurovascular checks, the whole time Robin squeezed Don's hand with a crushing strength that was surprising, but Don never let go and apart from when Dr Foster told her to look at him, he never looked away either.

When Dr Foster was finished and finally stepped away again, Don leaned in and kissed his fiancée on the corner of her open and intubated mouth. "I love you," He told her fiercely and made sure that she could see how much in his tear filled eyes and feel as much in the comforting squeeze of his large hand before Lila came over and took hold of her other one, pulling her attention away from Don as a couple tears managed to sneak past his defences.

"Don," Steven called from the doorway as Don quickly wiped the tears away and turned to face his soon to be father in law, the jerk that hadn't even come over to tell his daughter that he loved her. "A word…outside…" He added as Don let go of Robin's hand and reluctantly made his way over to her waiting father.

"I'll be right back," he whispered softly before slipping out of the room to the grim faces of Dr Foster and his tired looking intern.

***Break***

It had been a long morning and if there was one place on earth Elliott wished he wasn't right now it was in the LA County Morgue's stuffy waiting room. It never seemed to matter what time of day it was, the small room was always occupied with some relative, doctor or detective. All packed in together on the morgues uncomfortable butt numbing blue plastic chairs as the dinosaur of a receptionist watched over them with her beady accusing eyes behind her green horn-rimmed glasses.

"First time?" The woman next to Elliott whispered kindly as she leaned in close enough that their arms stuck together in the sweaty heat, despite the fan in the corner's best efforts to cool the room. The way it was jerking and spluttering, Elliott was a little surprised that they hadn't called time of death on it yet…

"Sorry?" Elliott asked confused as he turned to look into the startling green eyes of the woman next to him.

"Sorry," She smiled back sympathetically. "It's just you don't look good…well! I mean…you don't look well…sorry," She blushed prettily as she placed her hand on his arm in apology.

"Oh," Elliott nodded dumbly as the woman's thumb moved comfortingly in slow little circles as warmth spread throughout his arm at her touch. "No…I'm fine," He grimaced as he looked down at his watch with impatience. Claudia had said she'd only be ten minutes _half an hour ago_.

"That's good," The woman smiled as she uncrossed and re-crossed her legs so that she could twist in her seat to face him better, her skirt riding up a little as she did. "I'm Donna," She added as she held out her hand and waited for him to take it.

"Elliott," He replied brusquely as he gave her hand a quick shake before dropping it again, his eyes following Claudia as she emerged through the double doors that lead back to the examination rooms before stopping at the receptionist's desk to swap files. "Excuse me," He told Donna as he stood up and made a pointless attempt at smoothing the wrinkles from his wrinkled suit before heading over to the receptionists desk himself, completely missing the look of annoyance that flashed on Donna's heart shaped face as he walked away.

"I know, I know," Dr Claudia Gomez, the LA county coroner, held her hands up in defence at the look of annoyance on her old friends face. "But I had to make a few calls."

"Tell me you've finished the preliminary autopsies and I'll forgive you," Elliott grouched as he gave her a quick hug hello.

"Urgh," She squirmed in his tight grasp, "You're all sweaty!" She protested as he chuckled and hugged her tighter out of spite, earning dirty looks from the ancient receptionist.

"Maybe if you guys fixed the AC in here it wouldn't be a problem," El grinned as he let her go and ducked as she went to deck him one in return before grabbing her arm and twisting her until she was caught under his arm and scrubbed at the top of her head with his knuckles.

"Get off!" She laughed as he let go of her and watched as she preened her hair back down with her long slender fingers.

"What?" He asked suspiciously when she opened her mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it.

"It's nothing," She smiled as she picked up the file the receptionist had given her before El had walked over and handed it over to him. "Your report."

"Spit it out." He told her sternly as he rolled his eyes and flicked open the file, his smile dying on his lips as he saw the picture of the dead security officer, 'Flo'. He had known her...she had six kids, her eldest was at college-the first in her family, and her youngest was just about to graduate high school…

"It's just…it's nice to see that you still know how to have fun," Claudia replied, unaware of his sudden change of mood. When he didn't respond she sighed. The post Snatcher El was back and just when he'd finally let a glimmer of the old fun detective Hayes come out.

"Are all twenty accounted for?" He asked stiffly as he shuffled through the pictures until he stopped on the woman with the expensive wedding ring.

"She's the only one I couldn't ID," Claudia replied sadly as she looked over El's tall shoulder to see what had drawn his eyes in, slopped his shoulders and curved his spine. "I thought…well…what with a fancy engagement ring as that…no one's come to claim her yet…"

"Engagement ring? Not a Wedding ring?" He sighed sadly as he shut the file, crossing his arms around it and pinning it to his chest.

"Don't quote me on it but engagement rings just tend to be fancier, more ornate whilst wedding rings tend to be simpler. You get engaged, all your friends care about is how fancy the ring is. No one really cares about the wedding ring and this one's _fla-shy_! Someone spent a lot of money on that ring." Claudia shrugged as El only looked at her in surprise. "Just because no one's asked me doesn't mean I don't know about engagement rings!" She shook her haughtily as he looked on bewildered. _Women…he'd never understand them. _

"I didn't say anything," He sighed as he flipped the file back open to the Jane Doe's page and looked at the photo Claudia had taken of the ring. "Expensive you say…" He mumbled more to himself than to Claudia. "Then that's how we'll identify her. I'll get Chris to do some research, see if we can't find out where this ring was purchased and by whom."

"How is Chris…you know…working out?" Claudia asked uncomfortably as El pulled out a silver fountain pen from his shirt pocket and scribbled a reminder next to the picture. Brian had given it to him as a Christmas present their first year together…

"He's too keen," Elliott groaned miserably as he pushed the memory away and shut the file once more, tucking it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket along with the CSI's preliminary report.

"El…"

"Don't," He sighed tiredly as he held out a hand and rested it on her shoulder. He wasn't sure if he was giving her comfort or keeping her at arm's length…he just knew he didn't want to go into it right now.

"Ok…I won't," She sighed back in return as she reached up and gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze. "But you know…deep down…the kid isn't that bad…he reminds me of Bri when he first started…just…I don't know, _try_ to remember how it felt being the rookie…we all have to start somewhere."

"Ok."

"Where you going now?" She asked confused as he pulled her in for another quick hug, kissing her on the top of the head as he did. He'd known Claudia so long now she was like a sister to him…a sister that could drink him under the table and win in an arm wrestling match…but a sister all the same.

"To the hospital. I need to check on a witness."

"Tell Don we're all thinking about her," Claudia shouted after El as he refused to look back and held his hand up in goodbye instead.

***Break***

Shutting the door to Robin's room firmly behind him, Don let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding before collecting himself enough to face the sickly sympathetic smile of Dr Foster. _He wondered if it was a default setting, how many years as a doctor had it taken him to develop that bland smile. Did he even realise he was doing it?_ "How bad is it?" Don asked directly, too tired and too drained to skirt around the issue.

"Honestly," Dr Foster paused momently as if searching for the right way to phase the blow that Don's whole body was already flinching for.

"No I want you to lie to me," Don sighed dryly as the intern flinched for him and Don automatically regretted the remark. Dr Foster was only doing his job after all. "Sorry," Don mumbled as Steven shifted uncomfortably beside him.

"Just give it to us straight," Steven told the pair and Don was a little surprised by the 'us'. Only hours before he hadn't wanted Don near Robin and now they were an 'us'?

"Ms Brookes needs to go back under sedation," Dr Foster replied a little too bluntly as Don gritted his teeth and crossed his arms protectively across his chest. It felt like the bottom had fallen out of his stomach and his brain felt a little faint. _But she's only just woken up,_ he wanted to protest but didn't.

"For how long?" Steven asked for Don, who only nodded as he did his best to hold back the pinprick of tears that were tearing at his tired eyes.

"For a few more days minimum," Dr Foster told them straight as he tucked and un-tucked the chart in his thick arms, as if he really wasn't sure what to do with himself. "Her breathing is much improved…she just needs longer for the burn's and inflammation in her throat to go down."

"How much does she know?"

"Pardon?"

"About what's going on, how much does she know?" Don asked again as he dropped his arms and looked at the doctor straight.

"Her responses to the neuro exam were laboured, her reaction to coming off sedation was…erratic…I doubt she knows or acknowledged more than the pain, the fact that she's in hospital…and you Mr Eppes. She calmed visibly when she saw and heard you." Dr Foster seemed to pause and think about that last comment as if he was still a little surprised that Don muscling his way to his fiancée's side had actually helped. _Maybe other patients didn't have the same connection Don and Robin had;_ it was all that his shattered mind could offer by way of explanation.

"So what happens next?" Steven asked as he pulled his phone out and gave it a quick scan.

"We will sedate her again at half the dose," The intern Tony told Don when it seemed that Dr Foster had drifted off into some unreachable dream world. _Don wondered if the kid was used to it or if he was stumped by his boss's unresponsiveness._ "Then tomorrow, at the same time, we will wake her up and preform the neuro exam again. Hopefully she will be less drowsy and more responsive tomorrow."

"Very good," Dr Foster added absently as together he and Don both tuned to look at the commotion at the end of the hall.

"Now isn't a good time," Colby was telling Michael Burnett, Robin's assistant and the reason she was in the courthouse that day. "You should go home; I'll call you when there's news."

"No Col, I need to see her!" Michael called out as Colby tried to strong arm Michael back toward the elevator.

Without hesitation, Don left the two doctors and Steven watching on confused as he stalked down the wide, blandly painted corridor, grabbed Michael by the shoulder, turned him around and punched him so hard in the face that Michael fell backwards against the wall, blood pouring from his nose.

"DON!" Lila shrieked from somewhere behind him but Don didn't care. Fists still clenched and shaking, Don let Colby back him up against the opposite wall and away from the dishevelled and messy state of Michael.

"Michael?" Steven asked Don as the young intern took Michael by the elbow and helped him up, getting blood on his white jacket for his efforts.

"Yes," Don nodded, panting hard as he did his best to calm the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Pocketing his mobile phone, Steven turned away from Don and Col, approached his daughter's assistant and punched him again, not as hard as Don but with enough power to send the disgruntled lawyer flying backwards onto his arse once more.

Ignoring Michael's protests of a broken nose, Don turned away and headed back towards Robin's room and was surprised to see Elliott standing guard by the door, Lila was nowhere to be seen. "Feel better?" El asked flatly when Don was within earshot.

"Would you blame me if I said yes?" Don smiled bitterly. his hand was throbbing but it was a good pain, a satisfying pain. It was better than the fear that had been clogging up his throat all morning anyway.

"Depends…what'd Michael do?" El replied expressionless as Don stopped less than a meter away, his hand on the handle to Robin's room.

"She wasn't meant to be at the courthouse. It was her day off…she was shopping for a wedding dress and because he didn't do his job Rob got hurt," Don told Elliott angrily. It was as if the dam had burst and he was no longer in control of his emotions. All he knew was that amongst the guilt and anger there was no shame.

"She got hurt because someone blew up the courthouse," Elliott told Don sternly almost disapprovingly. "We haven't ruled him out as a suspect but something tells me that it wasn't Michael's fault."

"She had a miscarriage," Don replied with a quiet anger that was somehow worse than if he had shouted it. "So I'm sorry that I can't see it like that right now," Don shook his head furiously. "Now if you excuse me I'd like to get back to her side." Don added, matching his old friend's flat tone as he opened the door and began to step inside.

"I hear she's awake," El told Don quickly, stopping him in his tracks.

"They're putting her back under in a minute."

"Then can I speak to her? Before they do?" Elliott asked a little sheepishly this time, the anger…the pain temporarily wiped from his face, replaced with concern.

"No," Don replied sadly, not to be mean. Robin just wasn't ready. "She's on a ventilator. She couldn't tell you anything even if she did know something."

"Ok…_Don_…about the baby…I'm Sor-"

"_Don?_" Charlie asked gently, interrupting Elliott and drawing both of their attention upon the professor and his taller companion, neither of which they had heard approach which was expected from Ian. The man moved like a panther stalking its prey. But Charlie? He had clearly learnt a few moves in their time away and selfishly Don was just relieved to have his mind temporarily on something other than his fear for Robin or their loss.

"How is she?" Ian asked politely, aware that Elliott was staring daggers at him but ignoring it as Don pulled his brother in for a bear hug.

"It's bad," Don whispered, his voice so soft that the others had to lean in slightly to hear it. "I'm glad you're here," He told Charlie honestly as he pulled back, "Both of you." He added as he looked over his shoulder and nodded at Ian as a look of understanding passed between the two.

"_El_," Ian started but the detective seemed to recoil from their presence, his face etched with pain and anger once more. It was the first time the pair had seen each other since Elliott had ripped his partner's dead body from Ian's arms as he'd screamed for him to get up. Ian didn't count the funeral as the last time as Elliott had avoided him like the plague and had barely made eye contact with him for the entire service. "_El I…"_

"No." Elliott stated simply, stopping Ian short before turning on his heel and walking away.

"Forget him," Don Told Ian kindly as he pulled his brother's boyfriend in for a hug of his own before leading the pair into Robin's room. They only managed a brief hello to the still disorientated Robin before the young intern returned to put her back under sedation.

Collapsing back into the chair next to her, Don felt a little comforted by his brother's and Ian's presence but couldn't help but feel slightly sedated himself. Running on coffee, his tired brain was incapable of speech, which thankfully wasn't a problem as Lila was avoiding both Don and Steven's eyes and refusing to speak to either one of them. Instead they all sat in patient silence and waited, which was a welcome relief to Don who still wasn't in the mood for chit chat or pointless small talk.

When the time eventually did come for the other's to leave both Don and Lila stayed on, setting up camp for the night once more by Robin's side, though both knew sleep was unlikely. He just wanted for it to be the next day already. He wanted to see her open her eyes and feel her squeeze his hand again. But the morning took a long time to come and her next sedation vacation even longer.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hi,_

_Before you start reading, I just wanted to take a moment to say that I've been following the Boston Marathon Bombings closely these past two weeks and my heart and thoughts go out to everyone affected. I dedicate this Chapter to you. X_

_There is a moment in the middle section of this chapter when Liz says: "I just don't get what makes someone do something like…this. All those people they hurt, the lives they have destroyed…no…I don't think I'll ever understand how people can just set bombs and hurt hundreds of innocent people like that." It's only a small moment between her and agent Pierce. These are my own thoughts and feelings on the matter. I apologise if it offends anyone but it felt right as I wrote it so I've kept it in. _

_I hope you enjoy the latest instalment,_

_Colby'sGirl19. X _

**Chapter 5**

_*"This is Hollywood! Watch your step! Breaking your leg here does not bring you any luck!" – Bus Driver_

_Season 5, episode 12: Jacked*_

***Three Days Later***

It wasn't the same as waking up. It was more like a fragmented series of unconnected flashes that made little sense. A white washed ceiling, the sickly sweet smell of burning pork, beeps and hisses where there should have been silence, pain everywhere and faces, so many faces, all speaking in muted conversation that she found hard to hear and failed to understand. There were faces she recognised: Don's, Lila's, Charlie's, Ian's, Alan's, Colby's, even her father's. They smiled, they sighed, they laughed and they cried…some even came close enough to lay a hand on her arm or shoulder…some kissed her brow or touched her cheek. They'd squeeze her hand and whispered words that sounded encouraging but she couldn't make them out and worst of all, she couldn't tell any of them that she knew that they were there.

The one constant amongst it all was Don. He was the soothing voice that whispered to her in the dark and the arms that held her into the night when she felt the most alone. He was always there and she longed to call out to him, to take away the pain that lined his face when he thought no one else was looking. She wanted to tell him that she was ok and that she loved him, but her lips wouldn't move. Her body felt stiff and her shoulder numb. There was a fuzziness to the pain as if something was smudging the edges and when he moved to the other side of her; she couldn't turn to face him. That was the scary part, when his presence wasn't felt...it always felt like she was choking when he wasn't there to steady her.

Mostly though, she slept.

Until one day, one face and one voice stood out amongst the rest. "Robin? Can you hear me? Blink twice if you can hear me?" She blinked. "Good, well done…" The face smiled back at her. _He looked kind_; her tired and muddled brain thought pensively as she struggled to follow what the man with the grey and thinning hair told her. "…I will count to three and then pull the tube out alright? I need you to cough and breathe as I do. Alright? One, Two, Three!"

All at once it felt like Robin was being gutted and that her insides were being ripped out through her mouth and then she coughed and choked and coughed some more. "Good girl," Her father's deep voice boomed at her as his large meaty hand stroked her forehead like he had when she was a child, and she'd wanted nothing more than to protest that she wasn't a girl anymore and that what the kind man was doing certainly was not good!

But she was too tired to protest and her throat was aching too much anyway. So instead she slept some more, waking briefly to the same occasional flashes as before: a prickly tearing, searing pain, that all too familiar sickly sweet smell of burnt pork, that she was only too aware was coming from her, and the cold wetness that followed, dampening the nerves and blurring the edges of her pain once more. With every flash there was Don, her one constant through it all, guiding her when she felt lost, his voice a siren's call through the pain. She always felt stronger when he was there, holding her hand whispering her name. Safe, that was how he allowed her to feel...

…The next day when she did wake, it was different. Gone were the hazy flashes of before, replaced by the blinding vision of someone who had lived their life in the dark, only to find themselves thrust suddenly into the dazzling light of the sun. Her eyes were overwhelmed. There was white everywhere making the room appear brighter and more blinding than ever as the beeps and whistles of her dreams greeted her like a royal fanfare of celebration.

Turning her head the merest fraction to the right, though the movement sent a ripple of pain stretching down her neck and across her chest, Robin was rewarded with Don's smiling and deliciously dishevelled face, greeting her with the relief of a man who had been facing death row only to have been granted a stay of execution.

"Hey," He whispered gruffly, his throat thick with emotion as she raised a shaking hand to his cheek and let the week worth of stubble scratch her fingertips as they dipped to his chin before the effort became too much and she dropped her hand back to the bed all together.

"Hey," She whispered back but the sound came out as more of a strangled rasp.

"Here," Lila told her as she walked into Robin's line of sight and gently cupping the back of Robin's head, pushed a crushing coldness against her bruised and aching mouth, parting her cracked and dry lips as the stale but delicious water seared her burnt throat pleasurably as her battered lungs constricted tightly from the effort, making her breathing quick and shallow.

Uncomfortably aware that the rattled wheezing was coming from her and not one of the many machines crowding the head end of her hospital bed, Robin pushed the glass away only half devoured, though her body would have happily drained it in one go. "Slower," She told her younger sister when her breathing was under control once more but the word was low and guttural and Lila looked back at her with incomprehension shining in her similar brown eyes. "Slower," She grunted again with frustration, this time at Don who mercifully seemed to understand. Taking hold of Robin's head from Lila, he tilted her head back until she was staring at the patchy and dirty ceiling as he held the glass gently against her crushed lips, letting her sip gradually at the warm but refreshing water until this time the glass was empty.

"Better?" He asked softly as he handed the glass back to Lila before cradling Robin's head against his strong chest. Breathing in the familiar scent of him, Robin was content to leave her head in the comfortably folds of his cotton shirt forever but when she didn't respond Don got worried and propped her up against her pillows once more.

"Sorry," He told her embarrassedly as he sat back down in the chair next to her head and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm just so glad you're ok!" He told her hurriedly as his throat threatened to close on him and Robin saw it for the first time since waking up. Don was afraid. Her Don, the one she loved with all her heart was afraid. Just thinking about it made her heart beat faster! "Rob?" Don gasped with worry as her heart machine quickened the pace of its rhythmic bleeping as she felt the tracks of her tears slide down the sides of her head to drop noisily on the hospital soft pillow.

"Kiss me," She rasped as her hand reached out once more, making it half way before Don took it, leaned in and gently brushed his lips against hers. "Again," she whispered breathlessly against his as her other hand found purchase in the folds of his shirt and this time Don didn't hold back. Cradling the back of her head with his right hand, Don used his left to stroke her bruised and pale cheek before taking possession of her mouth with his once more. This time sinking all of his fear and worry and happy relief into the kiss as passion and fury took over and he made love to her mouth.

"Sorry," He apologised afterward when he finally pulled back, his eyes diluted with lust and his body rigid with restraint. At some point Lila had slipped from the room, leaving Robin and Don alone but Don was too absorbed to really notice.

"I love you," She whispered, knowing that she needed to say it and that Don needed to hear it.

"I love you too," He smiled softly, the creases leaving his brow for a moment as he sat on the edge of her bed, her hand still clutching his shirt as his right hand massaged the base of her skull.

"Good," She smiled weakly as her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing slowed as she drifted off into uncomplicated and peaceful sleep.

"Good," He sighed with something akin to relief as he removed her hand from his shirt, placed it next to her body, got up from the bed and walked out of the room, pausing only briefly to look back at her restful appearance, his heart pinching with residual worry as his adrenaline fuelled blood rushed in his veins like rain through a storm drain. She was on the mend. She hadn't died. That was what he had to concentrate on right now. The rest…what Dr Foster had warned him about…what they had yet to face…that could wait because right now what mattered was that she was awake and she hadn't died.

She hadn't died. Letting out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, Don let his tired body sag as his back slid down the corridor's bland wall until his bum hit the cold and polished floor. Rubbing his face with his hands Don wept, his whole body shaking as all of his supressed guilt and grief came shuddering out.

_He hadn't told her…she was too weak…she wasn't ready…he didn't have the words. He needed to find the words…_

"Don?" Ian asked neutrally as he slid down next to Don and sat, back straight, knees flexed as he hugged them to his torso. "Why don't you go home? Have a shower, change of clothes…eat something and come back?"

"I can't leave her alone," Don whispered softly; barely audible as he continued to press his tired eyes against the heels of his hands.

"You won't be," Ian told him so blandly he could have been discussing the weather. "I'll stay with her, call you if she wakes."

"Ok," Don nodded slowly, relenting finally when he glimpsed the merest whisper of emotion in Ian's flat gaze. Whatever Ian was feeling he had it locked down tight. _How do I do that?_ Don wondered morosely as he let the other agent help him to his feet. Robin was ok. She was going to be fine…ish. The rest, he'd just have to tackle when it comes…like telling his fiancée she'd lost the baby he hadn't even known she'd been carrying…

"_Don_?" Ian asked again, his tone laced with a smidgen of concern.

"No you're right," _Damn you,_ he sighed as he grudgingly accepted defeat_._ "I'd trust her care to no one else," Don let a ghost of a smile pull at his full lips as he squeezed his agent's strong shoulder in thanks before walking away, Robin and the hospital never far from his thoughts.

***Break***

"Where are you?" Agent Liz Warner asked softly from her position on the floor in front of Don's office couch as she looked across the mahogany coffee table at the conflicted and drained Assistant Special Agent in Charge opposite her.

"Sorry?" Logan Pierce yawned in reply as he lifted his head from his manicured hands to stare back at Liz with confusion in his tired blue eyes.

"You looked like you were miles away," She sighed sadly as she closed the file in her hands and reached to place it on the large and precariously stacked pile to her right, distracting him further for a moment as her denim shirt stretched tightly over her humble breasts and her loose knee length skirt rode a little higher up her nicely toned legs. It was her day off so she was dressed less formally than usual but she still looked amazing enough that Logan couldn't help but wonder if she hadn't dressed up even a little bit to impress him. If she had, consider him impressed!

"I guess I got a bit lost in my own thoughts," He smiled back as he too abandoned the file he was reading to get up and move around the table so that he was leaning against the couch next to her.

"Oh dear," She laughed as he took her hand in his and locked their fingers together.

"Indeed," Running his free hand through his thick wavy hair, Logan smiled handsomely back; his cheeks dimpling boyishly as he let her smile warm him as her thumb tucked under the cuff of his shirt and stroked his wrist comfortingly, sending little tingles up his arm. It felt good to laugh, even better to laugh with Liz. Over the last six weeks he and Liz had been getting close…very close…and then the bomb had gone off shattering everything they had once known, sending everyone's lives back into turmoil and with Don at the hospital with Robin, Logan-Don's assistant-had needed to step up, which was easier said than done!

It wasn't exactly a secret that Logan had resented Don for the promotion, feeling hard done by when Nick had chosen the best man at his wedding over Logan who had been in the FBI just as long as both Nick and Don. Not anymore. Not after being in Don's shoes for the past week. Without Liz's help he didn't know how he'd have managed it. Being the SAIC was hard, how Don had managed to maintain being SAIC and team leader on the Snatcher case baffled Logan and he could admit now that Don definitely had been the right man for the job. It helped of course that Don had named Logan his ASAC, which suited him just fine because it meant he got to work with Liz more often…

"Have you heard anything?" She asked him suddenly, her smile freezing as he leaned in until their shoulders were pressed up against each other.

"Robin's awake…but that was only the first hurdle…" Logan sighed sadly as he let go of her hand to put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug, enjoying the weight of her there despite the headache threatening to split his tired brain in half.

"First hurdle?" Liz asked confused. _Damn,_ he couldn't help but curse, even frowning Liz looked good and smelled even better…

"I've seen it before when I was on tour in Iraq," Logan replied as he leaned his cheek on her head and breathed in the scent of her tropical shampoo because even her shampoo was exotic. "Wounds that large, that deep…she'll need a couple of skin grafts at least and that's just the surface wounds! Who knows where her heads going to be at after this…"

"It just makes me feel so…_mad_," Liz whispered softly as he felt her body tense against his. "I know on this job you see _a lot_…" She replied suddenly after several heartbeats had passed and she had folded and unfolded her hands several times, her voice small and vulnerable. "I just don't get what makes someone do something like…_this_. All those people they hurt, the lives they have destroyed…no…I don't think I'll ever understand how people can just set bombs and hurt hundreds of innocent people like that."

"I understand fighting for what you believe in," Logan replied honestly after few minutes, not trusting his voice not to betray the pain the memories were causing him. "But your right…it saddens me that Osama Bin Laden wasn't the end of it…makes you question if there ever will be an end to the war on terror."

"I'm sorry," She sighed sadly as she rested her head against his shoulder and placed the palm of her hand on his solid chest, burning him through the expensive fabric.

"Don't be," Logan replied equally sad as he held her tighter, content to just hold her for now. What they had…it was new and Logan didn't want to rush things. He knew that Liz had dated Colby briefly and that Colby had ended things. Worse, he knew Liz still had feelings for Colby even though he was still dating the witness from the Snatcher case…

S_till…she was here with him…that had to mean something right?_

"Logan?" Nick called loudly as he knocked twice on Don's office door before barging into the room, completely oblivious to the way the pair sprang guiltily apart.

"Sir! Can I help you with something?" Logan asked shiftily as he and Liz scrambled to their feet to receive the AD. He and Liz had only kissed a couple of times but both had agreed immediately that whatever was between them should _stay_ between them. At least until they were sure that there was defiantly something there. He wasn't sure them dating was exactly against the rules, after all Don and Liz had dated briefly, but being her ASAC it was most likely frowned upon…

"We need to talk," Nick told Logan evasively as he tuned to face Liz and flashed her his best boy next door smile. "Sorry Agent Warner but I'm going to need to borrow Agent Pierce here for a minute."

"No problem," She smiled back as she walked past Nick to the door indicating to Logan to call her later.

"It's nice of Liz to help out," Nick told Logan distractedly as he took a seat on Don's over stuffed couch and loosened his tie more than was probably appropriate given the circumstances.

"Who knew being SAIC was such hard work," Logan nodded as he sat down on the low but sturdy coffee table opposite and placed his elbows on his knees, a sense of foreboding in the air.

"Or AD for that matter…" Nick replied absently as he drummed his fingers against the large square cushion that he had pulled out from behind him and placed in his lap when he had sat down.

"Nick…what's going on? Logan asked worriedly, his heart beating a little faster as Assistant Director Callaghan's eyes looked everywhere but at him. "Is it Robin?"

"No! Robin is…stable…I'm sorry I've just come from a meeting with the Director," Nick sighed sadly as he finally looked Logan in the eyes, this time with a certain amount of scrutiny in his deep blue eyes as he scratched thoughtfully at the designer stubble covering his rough cheek.

"Oh," Logan nodded in sympathy. The Director was a hard man to get along with. It had been so many years since the man had done any real police work that sometimes it was hard to ever imagine him as anything but a politician and a diplomat. The thing that had stuck most with Logan on the rare occasions he had interacted with the Director was that he came across as old fashioned and mean…and he never seemed to remember agent Pierce's name. Logan supposed he should be grateful that he always remembered that it started with an 'L'…_that was something at least…right?_

No, no one liked being summoned to the Director's office because nine times out of ten it was because you'd fucked up. "He wants us to claim jurisdiction on the bombings and take the case off of the LAPD," Nick spat out grudgingly as he balled his hands into tight fists. "Apparently the press have been painting the LAPD in a…_negative_ light about the lack of results they have produced this last week. People are growing anxious and the press aren't helping. Besides which, we should have claimed jurisdiction anyway…I only didn't because we can hardly call ourselves impartial…"

"Oh," Logan frowned as he ran a hand through his thick wavy blond hair…_that really wouldn't have been a fun meeting…_ "Isn't it Detective Hayes's case?"

"No Logan…it _was_ Detective Hayes case…as of this minute it's your case."

"But-"

"No buts," Nick sighed tiredly. Thinking about it, Logan noticed for the first time since Nick had entered the large office that the AD wasn't looking so hot. He was dressed sombrely in black compared to his usual tan suit and his ash blond hair wasn't sporting its usual lustre…

"Ok," Logan nodded again, like the dog in the adverts. "…But what about Detective Hayes? He still blames us for what happened the last time…"

"Yes…well he'll have to get over it won't he," Nick snapped petulantly as he crossed his arms, hugging the pillow against his chest.

"Does he know yet?" Logan sighed reluctantly. Honestly, he was finding it hard just to keep on top of the file sorting Don was doing before the bombings and to run the department.

"I should imagine the news has been broken by now," Nick replied flippantly, not in the least bit sympathetic. His time with the Director would have seen to that!

"Which team do you want on this?"

"The obvious one. Impartial or not, Ian's team still delivers the best results. The files should be transferred here any minute…"

"Yes sir," Logan replied despondently. He and Liz had only just finished sorting through the last lot of files…well almost finished…until they had gotten distracted…

"Good," Nick nodded firmly as he stood and moved over to the door, pausing only briefly to tighten his tie once more before slipping from the office altogether without so much as a word or gesture goodbye.

Pulling his ringing phone from his pocket, Logan recognised the extension for the main lobby and groaned loudly. The files must have arrived…and he'd hoped for a couple minutes to wrap his head around it all!

"Agent Pierce," Logan spoke into the phone as he simultaneously pressed the green answer button on the phone.

"Agent Pierce," A young woman's voice spoke softly across the line. "There is a Detective Hayes in the lobby with some files for you. He's refusing to hand them over, says he wants to speak with you personally first…sir…he sounds…angry. Should I call security?"

Dropping his head into his hands, Logan scrubbed frustrated at his tired face. "No, thank you Joy," Logan replied after a moment as he finally put a name to the voice, his face still hidden in the palm of his large hands. "I'll be right down." _Damn_, he thought as he hung up and pocketed the phone. _This was all he needed!_

Straightening his own tie, Logan stood up and battered hopelessly at the wrinkles that sitting on the floor with Liz had given him before heading for the lift.

***Break***

Waking up in a strange and unfamiliar place was never easy, no matter how many times you did it and Ian had done it a lot in his lifetime…waking now to the ominous beeps and hisses, Ian surveyed the hospital room as if it was foreign and hostile territory, instead of yet another generic hospital room.

"Ian?" Robin croaked concernedly from her awkward propped up position on the bed at the heart of the room as Ian scanned every inch of the room before his eyes finally came to rest on hers, looking but not really seeing.

_He looked tired; weary even,_ she couldn't help but notice. To her, he resembled a man who didn't know what sleep was because he had never slept before. She realised that was probably a really stupid assessment because she'd just seen him wake up, but it was because of his startled reaction. A kind of jerking motion as body and mind rebooted. It seemed funny now, because before Ian had never come across as if he even needed sleep. He was just Ian. He was like a machine that way.

"Hmm?" He mumbled confused as he shook his head to clear the tiredness he felt clouding the usual sharpness of his mind. The giant smudges beneath his almond shaped eyes weren't the only things Robin noticed that looked…_wrong…_about Special Agent Ian Edgerton either.

His face looked gaunt and his hair was a little longer than he usually wore it, which wasn't odd in itself but on Ian…it defiantly wasn't…normal. Ever since she had known the mysterious agent he had always been neat and well-presented and she certainly had never seen him in anything other than a suit or combats before. Yet here he was in a green hand knitted sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, levis that were faded in all of the right places, work boots-because something's never changed-and a beaten up leather jacket hanging over the knee of the leg he had crossed over the other. More surprising was how loose all of it looked on him…

Unnerved by the way his eyes seemed to refocus on hers and bore into her, Robin looked away first, embarrassed to have been caught staring. "Where's Don?" She settled for asking because it was a heck of a lot safer than: 'What _happened_ to you!'

"I got him to go home, clean up. He was starting to stink out the place!" Ian joked, but his face lacked any real humour.

"Lila?"

"Your father took her home to get some proper sleep," Ian shifted uncomfortably. It couldn't be easy waking up to find out that everyone that mattered wasn't there…

"How long have you been here?" She asked confused and a little disappointed that Don especially wasn't there…

"A few days," Ian shrugged his face as always an impenetrable mask.

"How long have _I_ been here?" She asked vulnerably, her voice grating on every word, but her need to know forcing her to persist.

"A week…maybe longer…"

"Oh," She croaked, her voice rasping her shock as she gritted her teeth against the pain as she attempted to turn her head a fraction to the left so that she could face the weary looking agent without straining her eyes.

"Here!" He told her as he stood, placed the jacket over the back of the chair and crossed the short distance to her bedside. "Let me," He whispered gently as he leaned in, took her cheeks in his calloused hands and inched her head effortlessly to face the left before dragging the chair over to her and sitting back down.

"Thank you," She rasped as tears slipped from the corners of her eyes to land noisily on the hospital's white cotton sheets.

"Hey now," He smiled weakly as he reached out and brushed the tears away as gently as he could. "What's wrong? You know…_besides_ the obvious?"

"The baby…" She said…or asked…it was hard for Ian to guess which as she had croaked both the words.

Unsure whether he was supposed to tell her or not…but not wanting to lie, Ian settled for a simple "I'm sorry," As he shook his head fractionally and held her hands as she began to shake violently, a moan building up in her rattling chest as she squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed loudly. Ian had only heard a cry like it once before when his mother had left him cold and alone in some orphanage all those years ago and had never allowed himself to cry like that again since. Or to be that vulnerable…until lately…with Charlie…

Knowing he'd probably get in trouble, but unable to just sit there and hold her hand as she heaved such heart wrenching sobs of grief, Ian gently pulled her into his tight embrace, careful not to hurt or knock her shoulder. Not that Ian thought she would have felt it right now if he had! "Shhh," He whispered soothingly as her fingers curled in the knitted wool as she buried her nose against his strong chest and let him rock her like a child until the tears subsided and the energy drained out of her. "I'm so sorry," Ian told her again but suspected she was beyond hearing as she lay limp in his arms.

"I didn't want it," She spoke softly, barely above a whisper as the words chafed her sore throat. It was an effort to speak and she thought it somehow appropriate that the words should hurt. "I didn't want to give up my job…I promised Don I'd retire and become a judge…"

"_Robin,"_ Ian replied sadly, his hold getting tighter as Robin began to shiver in his warm embrace.

"I did this…" She whispered against his chest, her heart breaking a little more with every word. "I didn't want it and I did this…"

"It's not your fault," Ian tried to tell Robin but she was definitely beyond hearing him now.

"I killed our baby…"

"SIR!" Turning around sharply, Ian was amazed to notice that he hadn't heard the nurse enter the room. That was his trick and he wasn't too sure he liked being on the receiving end of it…especially when his nerves were quite as on edge as they had been the past six weeks… "You can't hold the patient like that!" She added horrified as she raced to Robin's side, she was spritely for such a plump lady.

"Sorry!" Ian told the nurse coolly, not sorry at all as he gently set the mumbling Robin back against her pillows in almost the exact position she had been in before he'd dragged her in for a hug. "But she was quite upset," He frowned at the angry looking nurse as she clucked and fussed around Robin like he'd tried to kill her or something.

"What did you do?" The nurse barked back accusingly when she was certain Robin was no worse for wear.

"She asked about the baby," Ian replied evenly, his tone frightening for it's quiet anger, he'd been told before that it was worse than if he'd shouted it and Ian Edgerton did not shout…or get emotional…

"Oh," The nurse replied awkwardly, the wind a little knocked out of her as she turned and looked at Robin nervously as if she was worried that her grief might be contagious.

"She needs rest," Ian prompted, feeling suddenly suffocated in the hot little room. He need fresh air…he needed to get away…he needed to get out of LA! "Perhaps we should let her sleep?"

"Dr Griffiths will be here in a moment with the cart," The nurse told Ian as she moved to Robin's bandaged side to check in the IV bag and make notes on the chart she'd brought in under her fat arm. "We need to change her bandages. You might want to wait outside."

"Oh, ok I guess," Ian nodded dumbly as he headed for the door.

"Stay!" Robin called out afraid, her raspy voice small and vulnerable. "_Please_?"

"Is that ok?" Ian asked the nurse as he turned around and headed back to Robin's side, taking her outstretched hand in his.

"If you're sure," The nurse replied uncertainly as the young intern backed into the room pulling with him a trolley of fresh bandages and salves. Robin's hand immediately squeezed Ian's tightly and he felt his finders start to go numb.

"I'm sure," Ian told the nurse as the intern moved to Robin's side, smiled and explained the process: It was going to hurt and it was going to smell…she should prepare herself…she might want to look away…

"No," She told the doctor firmly as Ian patted her hand reassuringly. "I want to see it."

"I really think-"

"-That you should get on with it," Ian told the kid forcefully making him near on jump out of his skin. Perhaps he was being a little tough, but Robin's wasn't the first burn patient's hand he'd held. She needed to see it. It was going to be tough and it was probably a little soon after the shock of finding out about the baby…but she needed to see it…and if anyone could understand that feeling it was Special Agent Ian Edgerton!

"Of course," The doctor mumbled as a look passed between him and the nurse. "Get a mirror," He told the nurse and waited until she returned with one before pulling back the bandages to Robin's startled gasp.

***Break***

Stepping out of the lift and into the FBI's large lobby, Agent Pierce let his gaze roam the room until he found his quarry. It wasn't hard, Detective Hayes stuck out like a sore thumb against all the FBI agents in his equally wrinkled brown cotton suit and long coat, next to a sour looking security guard.

"Detective Hayes," Agent Pierce announced his arrival as soon as he was close enough and waved the security officer away with a flick of his hand, though the guard moved only far enough away to be out of earshot. _A sensible man,_ Logan thought reluctantly as he squared his shoulders and stopped next to Elliott who ignored his greeting to stare openly at the gold star on the wall in front of him.

"You don't seem all that surprised to see me," Elliott remarked softly, causing Logan to lean in closer to hear him.

"Well I did have an elevator ride in which to compose myself," Logan smiled tersely as he held his hands together across the small of his back and stood at ease.

"Of course," Elliott offered the smallest ghost of a smile as he turned his head fractionally to frown at agent Pierce who looked sharp in his black suit and tie and sombre expression, as if he had just come from or was headed to a funeral and yet somehow, stood next to the wall adorned with FBI memorial stars, it seemed somewhat appropriate. "And you know why I'm here?" El asked bitterly, his tone cutting as he watched the senior agent's eyes wander across the stars to where Brian's was hung.

"You're here to ask me to keep you on the case," Logan smiled tightly as he turned to faced El who had also turned, squaring off against him.

"And will you?" Elliott asked impatiently as the younger man crossed his arms and planted his feet firmly, refusing to back down. El had come intending to be the intimidating one and yet somehow Logan was pulling it off better.

"I'm a little surprised you want to," Logan replied after a long moment of consideration as he scratched non-committedly at his clean shaven, square jaw.

"It was my case," El shrugged, pretending to be blasé but Logan could see the throbbing tick that had started at the base of the detective's thick neck.

"That's not it," Logan sighed unimpressed as he turned back to the wall of memorial and frowned. There were a lot of memorials on that wall, some of whom Logan had known personally and as much as the old detective refused to admit it, Logan could see that this case was personal to El too. "But for now it will have to do. Name your terms detective."

"Terms?"

"Don't be coy," Logan snorted as he turned back to El suddenly making the security guard inch closer until Logan held out a hand telling him not to. "It's un be coming. You're here to bargain. You'll help out so long as…fill in the blank."

"I won't work with Edgerton," El grunted angrily, unhappy to be so off guard. He hadn't expected Logan to be so blunt, he'd gotten so used to people pussy footing around him lately it was actually a little refreshing that Agent Pierce chose to cut across the bull and get straight to business, didn't mean he liked being on the receiving end though.

"Out of the question. Ian is one of my best agents. He has knowledge and connections that quite frankly are more helpful than you Detective Hayes." Logan stared hard as his shoulders hunched a little. He was a tall man, even slightly stooped he towered above El but he wasn't about to let a little thing like size deter him.

"You asked my terms, that's my term," El crossed his arms, wrinkling his only tie further as he did his best to stare out the younger man.

"Fine," Logan relented slowly as he unfolded his arms and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. "But your partner will have to come on with you."

"No!" El shouted suddenly, drawing looks from passing agents who paused, hands reaching for their weapons as they sized up the situation.

"Yes," Logan replied evenly as he held out his hands to indicate to the other agents to move along. "That's my terms detective. I understand your reservations after the last case but dropping Ian would leave me a man short. Decide. Ian or your partner."

"Fine," El grunted reluctantly as he reached down and picked up a reasonably sized satchel bag and pulled out a number of thick files. "I'll let Chris know to come here…I'd like to get moving on this, get your people up to date as soon as possible." El told Logan as he held out the files for him.

Taking them, Logan manoeuvred them so that they rested in the crook of his arm. "I'll let the team know…and Ian," Logan added as an afterthought as he turned to head back to the elevator and Don's already file overloaded office.

"Thank you," El mumbled eventually as Logan stalked off, showing no sign that he'd herd the detectives grumbled appreciation as he pulled out his phone and dialled for Ian. "Agent Edgerton, its Agent Pierce. We need to talk. I have a top secret assignment I need you to look over. Call me as soon as you get this message and whatever you do, don't tell anyone…especially Don. Bye."

Hanging up the phone, Logan pocketed it once more and buzzed for the lift. He'd agreed that Ian wouldn't be on the team, he'd said nothing however about not giving Ian the file to look over. It was sneaky but Logan had to put the case before Detective Hayes's sensitivities. It wouldn't win him any friends on the team and Liz might not understand, but Logan wasn't there to make friends. He had a bomber to catch!


	6. Chapter 6

_Hi All! _

_Apologies for the late post, I have quite severe carpal tunnel in both of my wrists and typing for too long gets painful, mix that with writers block and well…_

_I think I rewrote this chapter three times in the end and finally I'm happy with the results and I hope you will be too! _

_I'm having surgery on one of my wrists tomorrow (again with last minute posts, I know I was terrible at school with deadlines too! Lol!) and sadly it's my writing one too, so planning the next chapter is going to be…interesting. Unfortunately it does mean it's going to be another long wait between chapters but hopefully it'll be worth it in the end. _

_Cheers and Enjoy. –Colby'sGirl 19 x_

**Chapter 6**

_*__**Don Eppes:**__"He's just lost."_

_**Robin Brooks:**__"So am I." _

_**Don Eppes:**__"__Nah. You can never be lost, somebody already marked the way…it's just something from Scripture called Halakha. You know, it means "the path." I don't know…I find comfort in it…"_

_**Season 5, Episode 15: Guilt Trip.***_

Stepping reluctantly from the comfort of the FBI's square elevator, fists clenching and unclenching at his side, Detective Hayes couldn't help but note, somewhat bitterly, that in his absence absolutely nothing had changed. It may have been six long weeks since he had last stepped foot on the nineteenth floor of the FBI building in LA, but the giant open planned room was every inch as cold, dark and intimidating as it had been the first time that he had visited.

_Seriously?_ Elliott asked himself silently, his grim mouth set to sneering; _doesn't anyone ever open a curtain or raise a blind around here?_ Not that he really minded the dimness of his surroundings because ironically it rather suited his current mood. El was just angry at himself for still feeling nervous and inadequate in the company of the many slick looking FBI agents he could see dotted around the room, hard at work at their desks despite the lateness of the hour, and was taking it out on the room. _What? Nobody said it was rational!_

In fact it was very irrational but whilst Elliott couldn't control the mixture of nerves and resentment bubbling away in his gut, he could at least pretend not to give a fuck. Forcing a look of boredom on his tense and angry face, El made his way deeper and deeper into the office, careful to take slow measured steps as if he strolled through the FBI offices every day and thought nothing of it. But he didn't and six weeks or not, the closer Elliott got to the bull pen the harder he found it _not_ to care because no matter where he looked, memories spilled out and fought for his attention…

To his left was the desk that Elliott had sat at all night waiting for a phone to ring and begging it to be the one that finally revealed the location of the LA child snatcher. Brian had revealed his plans to join the FBI that night and to think at the time Elliott had encouraged him to go for it…

To his right was the FBI bull pen and locker room, as busy now as they had been that same night as team after team left in the hopes of being the team that would catch the LA Child Snatcher…and save the kidnapped Agent Edgerton…

Funny, Ian's missing presence had been as obvious then as it was now and Elliott didn't know how he felt about that, which bothered him more than he was willing to admit and no matter how hard Elliott tried _not_ to remember, _not_ to care, the harder it only became to stop the memories at all.

They were like relentless waves crashing against a shipwrecked vessel, as he was tossed around from the storm of memories of his and Brian's time together at the FBI, to the tall, skinny Brian on his first day in homicide, El's argument with the Captain for being paired with the police commissioner's son, the stake outs, the chases, the easy laughter and friendship that followed…Brian lying dead in Ian's arms, cradling him against his chest like a mother would her new-born child…

It didn't matter how much alcohol he consumed, nothing seemed to be able to take that particular memory away, which annoyingly was also the memory that deprived him of sleep and kept him up at night. All he had to do was shut his eyes and he was back there in the doorway to Charlie's office, his eyes just scrambling to make sense of the scene before him…

Closing his eyes, Elliott could see it as if it was only yesterday…Ian semi naked in tight pants and a bullet proof vest, Brian limp in Ian's straining arms, blood dribbling from the corner of Brian's mouth, tears leaking from his eyes, skin waxy and ashen, eyes wide and staring, the burning in El's throat as he screamed at his partner to get up, Don crouching beside him, talking, reasoning, Claudia's soft voice whispering, pleading as the two took Brian away leaving Elliott kneeling in Charlie's office alone, his partner's blood on his clothes…on his hands…he never should have let them take him…

"El?" Colby asked confused from the open doorway of the FBI bull pen.

"Yes?" Elliott snapped as he opened his eyes and forced the look of boredom back on to his face, his only mask against the pain.

"Briefing's about to start…" Colby replied hesitantly, his own uncertainly obvious on his stocky, yet handsome face, his hazel eyes shining with concern. To think Elliott had liked the man, just showed you what a horrible judge of character he was… "You coming?"

"Of course," Elliott replied sharply, as he shook his head to clear it of that last lingering memory, shoving it to the back of his mind as he followed Colby into the FBI's bull pen and slipped into a seat near the back.

"Welcome, as all you should be aware by now, five days ago a bomb was detonated in the lobby of the La County Courthouse. So far no one has come forward to claim responsibility for the bombing. That does not mean however, that the bomber was working alone or that the threat off further bombings no longer exists. Either way, people are starting to panic. It is therefore absolutely paramount that we bring a swift resolution to this mess, with that in mind I will hand you over to Detective Hayes to fill you in on the details. Detective Hayes?"

Flexing and un-flexing his fingers anxiously, Elliott took a long deep breath before standing up and gesturing for Chris to join him as he made his way to the front of the large oval shaped room. "Thank you," He nodded fractionally at Nick as he and Chris turned to face the mumbling crowd of FBI agents, some of whom he recognised from the snatcher case and a few he didn't know. Obviously he recognised Don's team and was grateful to see that Ian definitely was absent, just as Logan had promised he would be.

Elliott also recognised the slightest shiver of fear that passed behind his young partner's eyes. El had felt a similar sense of foreboding the last time he'd had to bring the FBI up to date on the Snatcher case. The difference this time being that he didn't care what they thought of him and therefore wasn't the least bit daunted or intimidated, which was for the best because this time he didn't have Ian's friendly smile and Brian's thumbs up to relax him, which he reminded himself was Ian's fault in the first place.

"Twenty dead, sixty injured," Elliott told the mass of muttering agents, deciding to jump straight to the punch line of the nasty joke that had become his life. For the last week he had thrown himself into his work, this case in particular. "My department and I interviewed those sixty witnesses the morning after the explosion but as you will see from the statements in your files, they had nothing pertinent to tell us."

"What? Nothing?" Logan asked disbelievingly as Elliott turned to regard him closely, he'd looked sharp in the lobby only hours earlier and yet the man before El looked faded, tired and worn. Thinking about it now, it occurred to El that Logan hadn't exactly looked happy about taking on the case earlier and despite his anger and resentment towards the guy and team in general, Elliott couldn't stop a smidgen of concern breaking through…

"Don't get me wrong," El smiled warily as he scratched his neck thoughtfully. "They all had plenty to say, they just couldn't agree on details, hell half said there was a bomber and half described a suspicious suitcase or briefcase…"

"And what do you think?" Logan replied sombrely as the other agents mumbled to themselves.

"CSI's found evidence of C4 and a harness of some kind, it's their belief that our bomber was wearing a waistcoat of C4. It's possible the briefcase or suitcase was dropped in the confusion." Elliott shrugged, he'd never been one to put much stock in witness testimony and wasn't about to change the habit now.

"Ok…so it has to be one of the twenty right? What can you tell us about them?" The question came from Colby who had spent the AD's little introduction skimming the folder that Logan had gotten Liz to make up for everyone from the files Elliott had surrendered over to his custody earlier that day.

"Claudia and her team were able to secure ID's on all but one of the victims," Chris replied, finally finding his footing in what was fast becoming an interrogation as Elliott watched the other agents flick to the relevant tabbed section in the folders they'd been supplied with…Liz really had done a good job organising the mess of files El and Chris had accumulated over the past week, and quickly too he noted as he looked scornfully at the folder he had left on his chair when he had gotten up to address the rest.

"And?" Nick asked after a moment, once he was sure he had all the agents' attention once more.

"And we have been doing extensive background checks but it's going to take time to sift through all of the data collected, perhaps Charlie can help there?" El explained carefully as he turned to look at the massive interactive whiteboard behind him, where Matt Li, the team's tech guy, was currently bringing up images of all of the victims' bodies as well as their driver's licence photo save for Jane Doe's of course, whose only image was of her crispy and melted corpse. All Elliott could think about was when they'd had time to digitalise the files… It looked like Liz wasn't the only fast worker, he'd forgotten how efficient the FBI could be which was stupid as it was one of the many qualities he'd greatly admired before…everything.

"What are your thoughts? You must have some. Which of the twenty are victims and which are suspects?" Nick replied slowly as if speaking to someone simple…or a child.

"I've made notes on my thoughts in the files I surrendered to your team earlier. You should be able to find them on the photocopies in your files, you need only turn to the relevant page," El replied tersely as he folded his arms and frowned hard at the AD who did his best to hold Elliott's ghostly glare. "_Don't look at me like that!" _Brian had told him once, in these very offices. _"I'm not some weak willed suspect that you can break with a simple glance!"_ Naturally Brian had relented and told him everything. They all did eventually…except for Ian…Ian had only smiled back with that wolfish smile that El hadn't entirely trusted, not at the time at least and El had been impressed…at the time at least. "Perhaps when the checks are finished I'll be able to be more specific.

"What does your gut tell you?" Logan asked quietly as if he was genuinely interested…

Sighing, El turned to address him directly, "Truthfully? My gut says none of them."

"But you said that the bomber exploded with his bomb, so which is it?" Liz asked frustrated as the other agents began to murmur amongst themselves again, most likely agreeing with the press at the 'hack job' the LAPD had made of this case so far.

"Enough!" Nick shouted, his eye's flashing angrily until one by one the agents fell silent again. "Explain yourself Detective Hayes."

"None of them fit the profile that I had our profiler make up," El replied stone faced. "You'll find a copy in your folders somewhere," El sneered as he watched the agents flick obediently to the right place at the same time.

"We also found two other cases of minor bombings from several months ago that involved C4," Chris cut in quickly before Elliott had the chance to insult the assistant director any further. "LAPD had a few suspects but all were eventually cleared. No arrests were made and the file was eventually passed off. Until this bombing it was unclear whether the other two were even related but we believe they are."

"Why?"

"Because both were governmental buildings like the courthouse, only difference was that in those cases the bomb was placed and set off with a remote detonator." El added, his temper partially under control as the AD and Logan scanned the report from the same folder. "The profile matches for all three bombings, it's possible that they were just tests for the courthouse bombing."

"The profile suggests that the bomber is some right wing activist," Nick growled back, exasperated.

"Which fits," Chris cut in defensively, his hands working as fast as his mouth as the detectives did their best to explain.

"If you read on you'll find that the profiler also states that the devices could only have been made by an expert," Elliott snapped back as the other agents watched on slightly agog. "None of the twenty have a background in bomb making or disposal. Naturally we are checking their homes and have confiscated their PC's to make sure but it will take the techs a while to sift through it all."

"So what? You think that the bomber used one of the twenty as a patsy? Dressed them in C4 and sent them into the courthouse?" Nikki Betancourt asked confused as she leaned back in her chair, ran her fingers through her curly afro and held it in a rough pony tail behind her head. "Are you suggesting that the bomber is still out there?"

"It's possible but not with one of the twenty," Elliott grimaced as he fought to find the words.

"Why?" Nick asked through gritted teeth, barely holding onto his patience.

"The limbs…" Logan noted quietly as he shifted quickly through the thick file. "If they were wearing a harness of C4 then at least a limb or two would have been torn from their bodies. I've seen the carnage left behind of a suicide bomber in Iraq…took out an entire squadron and the orphanage they were protecting…these remains are too intact to have been the bomber…or the bombers unwilling victim."

"Great," Nick blew out frustrated. "So besides pieces of a bomb and a profile that discounts every suspect and points to the bomber still being at large…what other evidence have you actually collected?" Nick asked tersely, the other agents forgotten as he frowned up at Elliott, possibly wondering why they'd let him stay on the case in the first place…

"Some CCTV footage survived the wreckage, time stamped moments before the blast but unfortunately it's damaged. Our techs recovered a still but as you can see it's conveniently missing a section of the photo," Chris interjected again, _coming to his partners rescue?_ El mused; though there was little humour in it as he watched the other agents grumble their agreement that the photo was useless as Matt brought it up on the large screen.

"What about Charlie?" Colby asked suddenly, cutting through the other agents blather as he turned to face Liz who was in the row behind. "He's done this sort of thing for us before.

"What recreate the image behind the glare?" Chris replied disbelievingly but Liz was nodding enthusiastically now and Elliott had seen enough of what Charlie could do on the last case to at least make El hear them out.

"It's called diffeomorphic matching," Liz smiled as Chris looked at her as if she was insane and speaking another language.

"Diffeo-what now?"

"Diffeomorphic mapping," She replied as she stood up, her long hair bouncing around her slim shoulders as she tucked the folder under her thin arm and walked over to where Matt was sitting at the interactive board's computer. "Email that photo to Charlie, I'll head over to his office and see if he can't recreate the image for us."

"Whatever is behind the glare could tell us something about what happened seconds before the bomb was detonated. Tell Charlie to do what he can," Nick nodded thoughtfully as Liz left quickly and without further delay.

"Whilst agent Warner is on that I want Detective Hayes and Morrison to go to the hospital and interview Robin. She's awake and conscious and as much as I'd like to leave her out of all of this she's also the only surviving witness close enough to have possibly seen the bomber or their victim. Either way we need to know what she saw. Agent Betancourt, I want you to go and see CSI Knolls about the court records. It's possible our bomber cased the courthouse before hand and everyone that visits is recorded religiously in the hope of preventing something like this happening. See if you can't find any names that stand out as suspicious or come up on the background checks of our twenty victims. Agent Granger I want you to look into the bomb itself. Get in touch with the Behavioural Analysis Unit and see if they can't shed more light on the sort of person we're looking for. I want a proper and in depth profile so fly them here if you have to," Logan told them all as the other agents began to shift restlessly in their seats, aware that the meeting was almost over.

"As for the rest of you…return to your current cases until needed," Nick ordered them all sadly as he closed the folder he was holding and handed it back over to Logan. "You're all dismissed."

"Sir?" Elliott asked as he stepped over to where Logan and Nick were whispering conspiritably in the corner.

"Detective?" Nick replied as he and Logan jumped apart guiltily and looked anywhere but directly at him.

_Interesting…_El thought as he put the suspicious behaviour aside and frowned over at his partner who was talking animatedly with Matt Li, a similar curiosity alight in his eyes that had ultimately gotten Brian killed. El wouldn't let it happen again even if he wasn't that fond of his latest partner. Someone had to protect the kid against the FBI…"I was hoping that agent Pierce might accompany me to the hospital instead to detective Morrison."

"Why?" Logan frowned unhappily and shifted uncomfortably.

"Because we might have a possible lead on identifying our Jane Doe. I was hoping that detective Morrison might be reassigned to look into it. We don't know anything about her and have no background to check…it's important that she's identified and quickly." Elliott replied as his partner slapped the tech goodbye on the back before heading over.

"Ready?" He asked El with that boyish grin that told Elliott he was enjoying himself too much. Brian had enjoyed himself at the FBI too much as well; look at how that had worked out for him.

"Actually detective Morrison I've decided to reassign you to a different task," Nick informed the no longer smiling detective as this time El found it hard to meet anyone's eyes. "Agent pierce brought it to my attention that you had a possible lead on identifying Jane Doe, I want you to follow up on it."

"But…" Chris floundered, his jaw moving but no words came out.

"Agent Pierce can go with detective Hayes to the hospital. Now I really must get going," Nick sighed miserably as he looked at his watch and scowled at the time. "I have a meeting with the director to get to."

"Bye," Logan grimaced with sympathy before turning to regard Elliott with interest, his emotion's well hidden. "Well, better get a move on," He smiled as he clapped his hands together with badly mustered enthusiasm. "Just got to make a quick pit stop first. Meet me at the lift in ten."

"No problem," Elliott nodded, his teeth gritted as the agent left him and his partner alone.

"What the fuck?" Chris asked when the last of the agents had filed out of the FBI bull pen leaving the pair alone.

"What?" El asked innocently but knew he wasn't quite pulling it off.

"Why are you benching me?" Chris asked angrily, his boy next door looks twisted angrily as he looked at Elliott as if he'd grown an extra head.

"I'm not, Logan thought that Robin would open up more if it was to people she knew; besides you're hardly benched."

"Oh right, my little assignment to find Jane Doe's identity."

"Hey, Jane Doe could be the key to understanding what happened in that courthouse," Elliott shouted back defensively, even though they both knew deep down she wasn't.

"Sure," Chris growled as he gripped the folder tightly as if he wanted to hit El on the back of the head with it but thought better of it. "I'd best get to it then, hadn't I," Chris grunted furiously before storming out.

Sighing tiredly Elliott moved through the row of chairs, which had been added for the briefing, until he found his folder where he'd left it. Slumping down in the chair next to it, Elliott picked up the folder and fingered it angrily. Chris couldn't see it but Elliott was protecting him…the FBI…it was bad news and Elliott didn't want the kid finding that out the hard way…the way Brian had…

Eyes sliding to his left, El spied the make shift desk Ian had used during the Snatcher case. Elliott and Colby had searched the cluttered mess for clues as to his sudden disappearance and discovered that Ian was being stalked. Don had told Elliott that day that Ian worked alone. He'd said it so matter of fact that El had been left with no illusions as to the man that was the legend. It's lonely at the top he had surmised at the time.

Getting up, Elliott moved over to the desk, the folder still gripped in both hands as he looked at the mess. It didn't look any different. Almost like it hadn't been touched in six weeks, which El knew it hadn't because the second Brian had been buried the 'mighty' Ian Edgerton had run away. Packed up and moved on. Left. Gone. Vanished.

Biting his lip until it bleed, Elliott growled angrily as he took the case folder and swung it wide at the cluttered stack of files that had been dumped unceremoniously on Ian's makeshift desk. Laughing throatily, close to sobbing, Elliott watched with satisfaction as the files flew and scattered around him like a sudden snow storm of paper as he raised the folder once more and took another swipe at the desk and then another and another until the table was practically bare and the floor was a white sea in which Elliott found himself suddenly adrift.

_Damn._

***Break***

"Damn…" Charlie stated shocked as Liz pulled up outside the LA Courthouse and saw the damage for the first time. He'd seen the news reports and photos of course but somehow they'd managed to down play the scale of destruction. The front of the courthouse looked like a blackened and caved in ruin, a shell of some ancient architecture that was centuries old and as he, Larry and Liz shuffled their way inside, he felt more and more like some architect who'd somehow stumbled upon some monumental and horrific find.

"Damn is right," Liz sighed sadly as Larry righted a table and did his best to brush off most of the ash before placing the laptop down. "Are you going to be ok professor?"

"Yes…it's just…I look around this room and it's a wonder anyone made it out alive…"

"Some didn't," she sighed sadly as she made her way around the room, careful not to touch or disturb anything.

"Of course…I guess I'm just having a hard time understanding…this," Charlie replied quietly as he gestured to the remnants of a large desk and metal detector that were standing at awkward crooked and melted angles from each other, both warped and singed to within a breath of recognisability.

"As unethical as it sounds, for as long as there have been men, there have also been the select few that believe that peace can only be achieved through drastic and violent means. After inventing dynamite, Alfred Nobel still believed that whilst being a destructive power, it was also a harbinger of peace." Larry told Charlie sadly as he perched himself on a fallen peace of debris, crossed his arms and rested his chin against his chest.

"Wait…Alfred Nobel invented dynamite?" Liz asked confused as she picked her way back through the mess to where Larry was perched. "I thought he was the peace guy…"

"When he died, having seen what his invention was being used for and the lack of peace in his life time, Nobel wrote a will donating ninety-four percent of his estate to the establishment of the Nobel prizes in physics, chemistry, physiology or medicine, literature, and peace," Charlie explained as he too worked his way over to where Larry was resting.

"Nobel put it in the will that each prize was to be awarded to 'those who, during the preceding year, shall have conferred the greatest benefit on mankind.'" Larry added as Charlie took a deep breath before turning to face Liz.

"Right…what do you need us to do?"

"Recreate the missing area in this photo," Liz replied as she plugged the USB into the back of the computer and loaded the image for them to assess.

"Wow," Charlie replied stunned, he knew he had created miracles for the team before, but they usually given him more to work with.

"Can you help?"

"No," Charlie stated heatedly, his anger a mixture of despair that he couldn't help and that they were pinning their hopes on him once more to pull a rabbit from his arse.

"But what about using diffeomorphic mapping?" Liz replied deflated, she really thought that Charlie would have had the answer.

"When we did that before it was because you had caught a reflection on the wheel, there is no reflection here," Larry explained as he leaned in and scrutinised the image.

"Well…it would be by no means ideal…but…"

"But what?"

"What if we use the reflection on the marble floor?" Charlie asked more to himself than to Larry.

"Could you do that?" Liz asked confused, desperate just to keep up.

"The image would be less than perfect…" Larry replied hesitantly as he looked across at his young protégée.

"When he says less than perfect," Charlie stood and looked Liz directly in the eyes so that there was no confusion. "He means that it won't be good enough to make out the face of your bomber, only weak details like height, hair colour and ethnicity…"

"It's more than we have now," Liz admitted reluctantly, disappointed that the 'geek squad', as Colby referred to them, couldn't give them more on this occasion. "You never know, there could be something important behind that glare that we're missing."

"Then I'll get measuring," Charlie nodded as he pulled his measuring tape from his trouser pockets, just relieved to be doing something, anything to help and set to work measuring the floor. When Larry didn't move, Charlie pulled a second tape measure from his pockets and threw it at his old professor. "Are you just going to sit there or are you going to help?"

***Break***

"_Are you just going to sit there or are you going to help?"_

"_I guess I'm going to help," Ian sighed as he stood up and emerged from the murky edges of the shooting range and approached the mat where his mother was laying prone, scope of his favourite rifle pressed against her eye. "Wouldn't want you to miss," He mocked openly as she made room for him and he joined her on the hard ground._

"_What makes you think I'll miss?" She snorted indignantly and then laughed, her smile achingly familiar as her long brown locks fell about her bare shoulders and he fought the urge to run his fingers through her soft hair. _

"_Because you're doing it all wrong," He smiled back as he rocked his body so that he was resting on his side and surveyed her body. "Firstly, you need to open your legs wider, and square your hips with the ground, they'll give you balance. Secondly, move your left arm so that your elbow is under the barrel of the rifle, rest the nozzle on the sandbag if it's too heavy and then move your right elbow out wider so that it takes some of the weight. Thirdly, place your cheek so that it's smooth against the wood and look into the scope. Keep both eyes open, line up the rear sight with the front sight and then the front with the target."_

"_What's next?" She whispered so softy that he had to lean in closer to hear it._

"_Next you take a breath in, take a breath out, take a breath in and hold it. On the count of three you pull the trigger and hit the target." Ian whispered back as she adjusted her body, spreading her legs as far as the white shift she was wearing would allow, adjusted her elbows and lined up her sights. "Ready?" He asked softly as he watched her take two deep breaths in and out and in again before squeezing the trigger hard. _

"_Like that?" She asked proudly as she handed the rifle over and he examined her shot through the scope. _

"_Not bad for a first go," Ian smiled proudly as his mother rocked so that she was resting on her side, this time observing him. _

"_You look like crap," She told him earnestly as he shifted his body until he was comfortable and the rifle and his body had melded into one. Ian's old instructor had once told him 'that you couldn't tell where Ian ended and the rifle began, the way he carried it, you'd almost believe that the rifle was just another limb' and ever since Ian had always considered his rifles as an extension of his body. They were as much a part of him as the woman lying next to him on the mat, his mother but not really for she hadn't exactly been one to him for a very long time._

"_You lost the right to tell me that when you abandoned me at that orphanage," Ian snapped bitterly as he lined up his sights and aimed for the centre of the target before switching his aim two inches to the left, to the hole that his mother had just created and fired…__"No!" He shouted as Detective Hamilton came stuttering out of the shadows, his hands pressed tight against his shirt where the bullet had exited through his chest. "No!" Ian screamed again as he jumped up, throwing the rifle aside as the Child Snatcher laughed a mocking and cruel laugh, as he failed to reach Brian in time. _

"_I'm scared…" Brian grunted as Ian wiped furiously at the blood now dribbling from the corner of Brian's mouth as the two slumped to the ground, suddenly unable to stand any longer. "I'm scared…" He whispered again as Ian's mother approached slowly, only when she pushed back the curtain of her hair her face was no longer there, instead that cruel little sneer of Debbie Harris's looked back at him in the dim light, her body casting a long shadow over him. _

"_I killed him…" Ian shook his head with disbelief as Brian's body went limp in Ian's tight grasp. "Why did you do this? Why didn't you stop me?"_

"_Because we're killers. It's what we do and we love it," She smiled cruelly, her lips twisted and arrogant. "And that's not a guess either. It's fact." She parroted back to him what he had told Charlie all those years ago…_

"_What?" He told her angrily as he clung to Brian's lifeless body. "No! I'm not that man anymore!"_

"Ian?"

"_No_!" He shouted again, his fingers digging in as he attempted to hold on to Brian this time.

"_Ian_," The voice told him sternly, this time shaking the thrashing Ian until his sleep crusted eyes twitched open and the sounds of the hospital flooded his consciousness once more. "You alright?" Don asked as Ian looked down confused at the leather jacket cradled in his arms.

"Always," Ian grunted angrily, as he tensed his body to hide the trembling and clenched his fists to try and stop the shaking in his hands, because the last thing Ian Edgerton wanted to do was 'talk about it', no matter how many times Charlie or his shrink asked…"How is she?" Ian asked a little worriedly as Don looked over at the closed door of Robin's hospital room with concern.

"She's processing," Don replied roughly as he forced the emotion from his throat and turned to look back at Ian in earnest. "I'm surprised you're still here. I thought you'd left when I got back," Don told Ian quietly as he slumped down next to Ian, pretending not to notice the way his old friend was clinging to his jacket in a bad attempt at hiding his shaking hands.

"Charlie is working on the case, said it could take him and Larry all night…I didn't fancy going back to an empty house alone so I waited here hoping I could still be of some use," Ian admitted reluctantly as he loosened his grip on the jacket but was still flexing and un-flexing his fingers nervously.

"You should have come inside instead of sitting out here alone for two hours," Don shook his head sadly as he slumped a little lower in his chair. "Robin was just asking after you, I was just going to phone you. Would you mind sitting with her for a while?" Don asked shyly as Ian nodded enthusiastically, or as enthusiastically as Agent Edgerton did, just happy to be of use.

"Of course," Ian smiled placidly, his face and his emotions finally in check due to his new found sense of purpose as Don rested his head back against the wall, closed his eyes and let out a loud yawn. "You should try to get some sleep," Ian told Don sternly as he stood up and moved over to the door of Robin's room. "I'll look after her while you sleep," Ian told the already snoring Don and on instinct placed his jacket over the sleeping Don so that he wouldn't get cold, before heading back to Robin's room.

"Hi there," Ian greeted as he slowly made his way inside.

***Break***

"Hi there," Chris greeted as he slowly made his way inside.

"Welcome sir, how may I be of service today?" The expensive looking clerk asked as he looked down the long length of his straight roman nose at Detective Morrison, the merest fraction of a sneer pulling at the man's full lips, making sure that Chris knew he most certainly was not welcome.

"Are you Antonio?" Chris replied as he made sure to close the door behind him.

"Antonio is just the name on the door, I'm Clark."

"Well Clark, I'd like to buy a ring," Chris smiled affably as he moved through the glass cabernets to the main counter at the back of the room where the man was leaning, a glossy magazine open in front of him.

"Ok," Clark nodded slowly as he stood up straight and folded his arms across his soft cashmere shirt, which was more of a sweater, and gave Chris another of his most scrutinising looks. "And what sort of ring was sir after today?"

"Engagement," Chris smiled again as he reached inside his jacket for the evidence photo of Jane Doe's ring. "My mate got his fiancée's here and when mine saw the ring, well she just had to have the same," Chris sighed exasperated as he gave a 'what can you do' shrug. "This ring." He added as he placed the photo down on the counter for the man to see.

"Impossible," Clark shook his head, his perfectly gelled hair not moving a whisper.

"Why?" Chris asked sternly as he jabbed the photo with his finger, pushing it across the clear glass for Clark to get a better look. "You're not denying that you sold it?"

"Of course not," The man barked back insulted as he pushed the photo back. "That ring is one of my finest creations! It is also a one of a kind, all of our high-end rings are, which you should know as your friend paid extra to have it that way."

"One of a kind…" Chris repeated slowly causing the man to scowl harder.

"That's what I said," He replied stonily.

"So you could tell me _exactly_ who you sold it to?"

"I thought your 'mate' bought it, who _exactly_ are you?" Clark asked accusingly, pointing his slim finger in Chris's face.

"I'm Detective Chris Morrison, LAPD and I'm going to need the name of the man you sold this ring to."

"Detective," Clark shuddered as he rolled the word around his mouth as if it was something disgusting. "I should have known from the cheap suit."

"No need to get nasty," Chris grinned, knowing it would make the man bristle more. "Give me the name and I'll leave."

"I'm afraid our clientele records are confidential," Clark replied, giving Chris a small satisfied smile. "You're going to need a warrant."

"Sure, I could go and get a warrant. Or you could tell me right now," Chris gave his own wolfish grin causing the man to take a step back from the young detective.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because I found that ring on this lady," Chris replied as he pulled the picture of Jane Doe's burnout corpse and held it up to Clark's straight nose.

"Oh my god," Clark gasped as he instinctively held his hand to his mouth as he gagged.

"I'm trying to ID her," Chris added quietly as he moved around the island counter so that he was only inches from Clarks recoiling body. "Whoever bought the ring doesn't know that she's dead yet. The name please."

"Of course," Clark nodded as he stood up straight, his face ashen behind the tan. "Follow me."

"Of course," Chris smiled as he followed Clark to a back room that's door hadn't been obvious before because it was painted and styled to look just like the walls. The room was swankier than he had expected too. There was an antique work station and desk, antique materials and tools and expensive hardwood floor and wood panelling. It all looked expensive and gaudy to Chris…

"…Nice room," Chris lied before taking a seat opposite.

***Break***

"…Nice room," Logan lied before taking a seat opposite.

"I'll tell the nursing staff that you approve," Ian smiled blandly, his face was smooth of emotion but his tone suggested he was irritated.

"I've been phoning you all afternoon," Logan continued as if the other agent hadn't spoken, letting it slide because it was Edgerton.

"I've been here," Ian sighed but only a fraction of his impatience showed. "My phone's been off the whole time."

"Of course," Logan nodded as he reached into his briefcase and removed a spare folder that he'd had Liz make extra for him. "This is a copy of the case file for the courthouse bombing, I need you to take a look over it and tell me what you think," Logan added as he held the file out but when Ian didn't automatically reach for it, Logan had to settle for placing it down on the seat next to Ian instead.

"I thought you made a deal with Elliott that I wouldn't be on the case," Ian frowned at Logan, refusing to acknowledge the file in any way.

"I said you weren't part of the team, that doesn't mean that you can't look over the file by yourself…report your thoughts back to me," Logan smiled slyly but Ian only looked pointedly back.

"No."

"No?"

"El doesn't want me near this case."

"That's not for detective Hamilton to decide. I told him what he needed to hear at the time. Now I'm ordering you to look over the file and tell me your thoughts," Logan frowned himself, he had a bombing to solve and a murderer to catch he couldn't waste time on principals and pride…he'd thought out of everyone Edgerton would have understood. What needed to be done and all that…

"Sorry," Ian replied, not sounding sorry at all. "But my answer is still no."

"Ian," Logan practically growled his impatience.

"But, that doesn't mean I don't someone _who could_ help you. I'll send the file to him and give him your number," Ian smiled a small, strained little smile before getting up.

"I don't want someone else's fucking opinion," Logan hissed as Elliott entered the small waiting room with two coffees in hand and froze at the sight of Ian, a mixture of emotions flashing across his stubbled face.

"Visiting hours are almost up," Ian told Logan pointedly as he slyly pushed the file under his leather jacket before picking them both up together with elegant ease and agility, the file neatly hidden at all times. "If you want to question Robin today, you had better do it soon."

"Then we should get going. Your presence is not required Agent Edgerton," Elliott replied briskly, his face flushing with colour as the tall agent approached.

"Robin wants me there," Ian replied genially, any emotion he didn't want showing securely hidden.

"Then let's get a wriggle on," Logan cut in before El could protest and gestured at the pair of them to stop dancing awkwardly around each other and to get a move on.

"Yes lets…" El frowned disapprovingly, his ghost eyes flashing with anger as he bit his tongue to stop from saying something that would land him in trouble. After all his position on the team was tentative enough already. Besides, he wouldn't have put it past Logan to have tried some sort of angle to get Ian involved and then have him removed if he was to push too hard. His silence however, only served to make Logan more suspicious of the abnormally silent and usually disagreeable detective, causing him to shoot several calculating looks at El on their way from the small waiting room to Robin's hospital room. There was no point trying to get anything from Ian, besides a tense jaw and tight fists, Ian could have been taking the scenic route on a stroll through the park.

"Let's just get this over with," Don greeted them heatedly as they all shuffled their way into the room. In his opinion Robin was still too fragile for questioning, he had however been out voted by the woman herself. Robin was just determined to get the questioning over with already so that she could go back to grieving and ignoring them all in horrified silence. Ian was in two minds himself on whether she was ready or not, on the one hand he wasn't entirely sure that the shock of the day had entirely worn off yet and on the other the questions needed to be asked…

"Hey," Ian whispered softly as he took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You sure you're ready for this?" He asked her for the hundredth time, just to make doubly sure she was definitely up for it, or as up for it as one could be expected to be given the circumstances.

"I'm ready," She croaked as Elliott opened his pad and pulled out his pen whilst Logan busied himself by looking out of the room's large window at the garden below.

"Well when you're done, you just squeeze my hand and I'll kick them out," Ian smiled warmly as she tried her own little smile; the twist of her lips however looked more like a grimace and her throaty laugh a weary groan.

"I'd like to see that!" She rasped as Don settled down in the chair next to her and took her hand in his. "Ask your questions detective," Robin told Elliott as she pulled her hand back from Dons grasp and draped it over her sore body. "You've got five minutes and then he's kicking you out."


End file.
